Made
by thechampionsmistress
Summary: Jane told her once: "Don't get made." At the time it was exciting and she enjoyed the thrill of an undercover operation but as she repeated those words, Maura was trying to convince herself that such a possibility still existed. The truth hit her as the wind blew through her tattered hair, catching on the jacket of a mob man: she was in too deep to be saved.
1. Found

Author's Note: I was re-watching various episodes when I got to the premiere of last season, episode 3x01, and my brain sort of went: "Here's a story I know you can't resist writing, even though it's going to drive you up a wall, down the staircase, through the front door, and out onto the street." I truly hope you enjoy reading this as much as I have had the pleasure of writing it. There are 8 chapters to this story.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the order of the words.

* * *

Maura sat on a wooden chair that was cold to the touch, which only added to her discomfort. She had done this many times, sat there many times, but no amount of repetition could prepare her for the pounding in her chest, the perspiration beading on her forehead, the shaking of her hands. The place even smelled different: no longer pristine air with a hint of fine paper and fancy suits. Now it smelled like moldy cloth and sweat.

"Answer the question," came a voice that exemplified fatigue and annoyance.

"We all have reasons, Commissioner. There are too many variables to determine their validity."

"You're evading the question, Doctor."

"I'm giving you my answer, even if it's not the one you're fishing for." Her words dripped with malice at the man sitting behind the stained wood. She was not fond of him, or his type: egotistical men who wore their arrogance like a fine tailored suit.

He took a deep breath, attempting to hide his frustration, but the ticking of his wrist watch was making that a difficult task. "This would go a lot smoother, and might I mention quicker, if you gave us something tangible, something…"

"To use against my colleagues? Yes, Commissioner, I am well aware of what you want me to say but I won't. I can't lie."

"So you expect this committee to believe that you—a medical examiner with no combat, weapons, or tactical training of any sort—are solely responsible for the death of one of Boston's mob elites?"

"To say that I alone was responsible would be inaccurate. It was a joint effort."

"Are suggesting he helped kill himself," he asked; his disdain at her continuously round-about answers evident. Maura Isles was the most direct, yet frustrating, witness he had ever interrogated. Her ability to only answer the question asked, and not see the deeper meaning behind it, was causing the committee to be thrown useless facts in addition to the answers they were searching for without the ability to differentiate between the two.

"I'm simply stating, sir, that my presence alone does not justify your assumption that I am a murder."

* * *

Korsak found Frost sitting on the bench outside the courtroom. He had walked that morning from the station, hoping to clear his head before his questioning but even the crisp Boston air was useless against the clutter in his mind. Apparently, it was the same for Frost.

"How long have you been here?"

"Since they shut the door," the young detective responded, not having a clue what time it was, or how long he had been there. His world revolved around the closed door and what was being said behind it.

"You need to go home, Frost. There's nothing you can do here until they call you in."

"I want to be here." He considered arguing, but Korsak saw his friend's eyes revert to the tiled floor and he retracted. Taking a seat, Korsak knew Frost needed to feel useful because he knew Maura didn't stand a chance. She was the last person to see Jane alive and had been, so far, unwilling to reveal the events of the warehouse.

"How do you think she's doing," Frost whispered, not convinced he wanted to hear the answer. He had been powerless in the warehouse, and he was powerless now.

"Well," Korsak mused, racking his brain for the tactful way to handle the situation. "I can imagine that if she's answering their questions, she's pissing them off."

Frost chuckled lightly, being able to clearly see the committee asking a simple question and receiving one of Maura's patented responses. He missed them more than he thought he ever could. "The evidence doesn't look good, does it?"

"Evidence," Korsak pondered. "No, it doesn't. The facts are a different story, though."

Frost scrunched his face, raising an eyebrow: "I don't understand."

"The fact is that Maura isn't capable of hurting Jane. She cares entirely too much."

"So someone else decided to shoot her and hide her body?"

"The only evidence we found was an unaccounted for casing. Who's to say it went into Jane and who's to say she's being hidden?"

"Her blood was on the floor and she's not here." Frost nearly yelled before composing himself. "What more do you need?"

"You're thinking too much like a cop. Think more like a detective. Better yet, think like Dr. Isles."

"There is not enough Advil in the world for that," he half-smiled seeing a sliver of sense in Korsak's logic and trying to relieve the tension between them and the situation. He succeeded only momentarily as a pair of agents waked past them, reminding them of their situation. "I just wish I knew where she is."

"Me, too, Kid," Korsak said heavily. Patting Frost on the back, he gave a weak smile. "Come on; let's go get something to eat. She's probably gonna be in there a while and I'm starving."

* * *

"What was the nature of your relationship with Detective Rizzoli?"

Maura had expected the question and was surprised it had taken them so long to ask it. It had been the subject of great discussion amongst the committee before they brought her in, she knew.

"There was one," she responded with no real interest in the question.

"Need I remind you, yet again, Dr. Isles that you are under oath and are required to answer fully any and all questions presented to you?" The man who spoke sat at the end of the table, much too young for the authority he thought he possessed.

"I am aware," she responded coolly. "The completeness of my answers shall reflect the relevance of the question."

"Your relationship had no bearing on the outcome of that night?"

"On the contrary, it was the reason for it."

"And yet you don't find it relevant."

"My personal life is not to be pinned up on a drying line like dirty laundry," she countered with force. "If you recall, sir, that's why we are all here."

"Meaning what?" The commissioner regained control of the conversation shooting a cold look at his colleague, though he more breathed the question than spoke it. Having this much difficulty getting information from the doctor was not what he had expected. He anticipated someone heartbroken and frail; what sat before him was a raging furnace of a scorned woman.

"Desperation is a powerful emotion, sir."

* * *

_"Can you see it," Maura questioned, holding her brand new skirt up to the camera. "Is it too much?"_

_"Does it matter," Jane squinted, her reception weakened by the weather, getting no help from the bustle of the airport she was in._

_"Not really, no."_

_"Then, yes it is," Jane smiled, enjoying almost too much the strain Maura put on herself to be what she deemed presentable. Maura was the type of woman who was always presentable because she wore her intelligence like other women wore lingerie and she was arguable sexier because of it._

_Jane watched in shear amazement as Maura brought out half of her closet and laid it neatly on her bed. "You know, this would go a lot quicker if you just moved in with me. There wouldn't be room for all of that."_

_"My clothes and I are a package deal, Jane. Besides, I have asked you to move in with me several times."_

_"Yes," Jane scoffed. "Because that sounds wonderful. I'd love to live with my mother again. Eighteen years wasn't enough and I need more."_

_"She can have your apartment," Maura suggested, moving out of sight into her closet, the sound of hangers sliding filling the room._

_"My mother? In my 'crappy little apartment.'" Jane mocked her mother's voice in practiced perfection, letting her mind wander to the thought of Angela Rizzoli in her home permanently. Jane was half-convinced that her mother would be at Maura's house more often if she was forced to moved out. Something about not living somewhere made the woman feel right at home._

_Shaking out of her thoughts, Jane looked up to see Maura emerging from her closet holding what appeared to be a shirt, though Jane knew the options were boundless. It probably had some fancy French name and was meant to be worn a specific way and only at specific times. Highly impractical for the most rational person Jane knew._

_Then she noticed the tears forming in Maura's eyes. "Oh my god, are you crying?"_

_"Not yet," she quivered._

_"Why are you crying?"_

_"My white shirt is blue!" Jane froze. _Really_, she thought, completely lost at how to handle Maura crying over a shirt. Had it been coffee, she would have understood. Had it been the Red Sox losing to the Yankees, Jane would have been crying with her. Then again, this was Maura and these were her clothes. To her, a shirt could signal the end of the civilized world._

_"Not the whole thing," Jane tried weakly, hardly convincing herself, "just that spot on the side. Kinda looks like a morphing…flowery… type…thing."_

_"This is not a joke," Maura snapped back, clutching the shirt to her chest like a lifeline._

_"Just bleach it, Maura," Jane sighed, already seeing this becoming an issue._

_"You do not bleach satin shirts."_

_"Then maybe you shouldn't buy them."_

_"You are missing the point entirely!"_

_"Okay, so you're overreacting. There's a stain. Wear another shirt."_

_"But it is perfect for the occasion. I don't understand how this could have happened," Maura whined._

_"I'm sure the occasion will understand," Jane soothed to a non-responsive woman who was running her hand over the destroyed material. She scratched at the color, smelling it, attempting to uncover what had ruined her shirt. In the middle her third identification test, Maura's head jolted up at the sound of someone knocking on her door._

_"Is that knocking," Jane teased. "You really are on a first name basis with the UPS man aren't you?"_

_"You're very funny," she grinned, gaining a wide smile from Jane. The ability to bicker and argue without any threat to who they were together, without having to wonder if they offended each other was one of the aspects of their relationship Jane valued the most. Maura always forgave her for being difficult. Jane always tried to understand Maura when she spewed random facts and figures. When everyone else backed away or gave up, they didn't._

_"Maura, you're going to look amazing no matter what you wear," Jane soothed, giving a cheeky grin and winking which caused Maura to blush slightly. "Besides, it's just me and you know I don't care."_

_Maura smiled involuntarily, but was reminded of her visitor as there was another knock on her door._

_"I should get the door," she sighed, though she struggled to sound sincere. Jane was the only person who could make her feel beautiful no matter what she wore, said or did. The past few days had been hard on her without Jane there and she wanted her to come home._

_"Okay. I'll see ya tomorrow?"_

_"Of course."_

_Closing her computer, Maura was left with a rapidly beating heart she only got with Jane. She gently laid the shirt on the bed and left her room, making her way to the door. _

_Unlocking it and removing the chain, she opened it to find a man dressed in a three piece suit. He was clean shaven and had a charming smile. Standing a respectable distance from the door, she felt his presence surround her, engulfing her in his caked on cologne._

_"Can I help you?"_

_"You and I have business to conduct." His accent was deep, more pronounced than the average Bostonian._

_"I'm sorry. Do I know you," she asked as she pulled the door closer to her chest, nearly hiding behind it. The man reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Maura who took it reluctantly. His eyes stayed trained on her as she looked down at her shaking hand. Cautiously opening it, she let her eyes drop to a sight that stole her breath, pounded on her chest._

Professional Frenimies. Cop shoots medical examiner's father.

_Who they were no longer mattered. They knew who she was and it meant something to them. More importantly, they knew about Jane. He smiled, seeing the desperation in her eyes, aware instantly that he had chosen the correct trigger. Maura was at his disposal._

_"I'm going to need you to come with me."_


	2. Informed

_Maura had lost track of right and left turns and the time, but she knew that was intentional. They had likely not left Boston, merely driving in circles on the frost bitten streets. No one had spoken since they pulled out of her driveway, but she could hear the clink of guns against the seats and doors. Two men enclosed her in the middle of what she could only theorize was a SUV. Based on the small amount of room she had, she classified the men next to her as roughly six foot five, approximately 250 pounds-body guards for the otherwise average man she greeted at her door._

_Coupling these findings with the newspaper clipping, Maura could find only one possible explanation for who these men were. She hadn't pinpointed which family was escorting her blindly around town, but she was certain it was one of the four remaining mob elites. It truly did not matter which one as they all hated her father and they would not have risked being seen anywhere near her unless they needed leverage. They were far too careful for anything else as evident of their family being untouchable despite every law enforcement officer having memorized their faces._

* * *

_The car pulled to a gradual stop and the doors opened; the smell of cigar smoke and fish replacing that of cologne._

_"There's a one foot drop from the car to the ground," they informed with a softness she hadn't expected. "Be careful as you exit."_

_Despite her judgment that they were monsters, which she still firmly believed, they treated her like a lady, steadying her by holding her unbound hands. Perhaps Paddy had been right: men of honor in this world, although plenty capable, didn't kill women or children. Leading her away from the car, she heard a door open and some shuffling before they spoke again._

_"Have a seat, Dr. Isles," instructed the man with the heavy accent. She obeyed, terrified not to, but careful not to show it._

_"May I request that you remove my blindfold, please?"_

_"Do it," ordered a voice she didn't recognize, but could conclude was their leader as her vision was restored immediately, allowing her to see a man she knew all too well sitting across from her. She didn't know him personally, but she had heard of him many times and was well aware of his reputation._

_"Mr. O'Donnell," she acknowledged, surprised slightly that such a man was willing to show himself._

_"So you have heard of me," he grinned. "That will make this much smoother."_

_"I don't know where Paddy Doyle is," Maura offered immediately, finding no other reason they would want her._

_"I don't want Doyle, my dear."_

_"Then why am I here?"_

_"So impatient," he mocked, leaning back in his chair, inadvertently drawing attention to the two men standing behind him: unarmed but dangerous. Maura knew immediately that they were his sons, having far too many facial similarities to conclude otherwise. They were poised to take over the family business, groomed just like their father except for the son on the left whose jacket was not nearly as well kept as his brother's. There were obvious creases in the sleeves and it fit a little looser than the other tailored suits in the room. She was focused so fully on the young man that O'Donnell's booming voice startled her and forced her attention back on him. "Why don't we chat for a minute, hm?"_

_"Did you have a topic in mind?" Her question was quick and her attention was placed back on the two brothers though neither of them spoke. O'Donnell allowed a minute to pass before snapping his fingers and pointing at his youngest son. Sifting through his jacket pocket, the man, who could not be more than eighteen, produced a picture which he handed to an awaiting hand. With a smug grin and knowledge in his eyes, O'Donnell flashed the picture, gaining haughty chuckles and assuring nudges and smiles from the audience behind him._

_"Quite a beautiful woman you've caught, Doctor. Don't you think, boys?"_

_Maura's mind ran rapid with rage and it took the entirety of her will power to not come unhinged. They looked at Jane like she was piece of meat. However, given how she had been treated, she knew it was to get a rise out of her and she was in no mood to appease them. So, she gave a small grin, consciously controlling her shaking hands and taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart before responding._

_"Make no mistake, Mr. Donnell. I may not know where Paddy Doyle is but, should anything happen to Jane or her family, I have the means to find him and I can promise he will be less than forgiving."_

Perfect_, he thought as the room went silent under the veil of her threat. That was the kind of dedication he had hoped for. "Perhaps we can work together to make sure that will not be necessary."_

_"That would be in your best interest," she spared, allowing a glimpse of her rage to seep through with her words. Mickey O'Donnell didn't flinch, not that she expected him to. Instead he leaned closer, staring her down, reading her like an open book._

_"You have your father's eyes. Did he ever tell you that?"_

_"My father adopted me. Having his eyes is a genetic impossibility." Maura spat her words, countering the composure she was managing to keep despite her strong desire to be more like Doyle than O'Donnell thought her capable of._

_"Still haven't accepted who you are, I see. Well, we'll see how not like your father," he paused, enjoying the look of distain Maura's face displayed. "I'm sorry, forgive me- how not like Doyle you are."_

_"What do you want," she questioned, her frustration fizzling into genuine confusion at their need of her._

_"Information." He lend back, now speaking as though he was leading a meeting of professionals, not one of criminals and killers." You will provide this information within 48 hours."_

_"Information on what?"_

_"Not what: who."_

_"Fine," Maura sighed, already tried of their smug games and superiority complex. "Whom, then."_

_"Danny Flanagan. I trust you are familiar with him."_

_"I am," she acknowledge hesitantly, not understanding how Flanagan was of any relation or concern to her or why she was a better option than the army of men behind O'Donnell. "What exactly are you looking for?"_

_"Let's just say he expanded his business to the wrong area of town," Mickey responding vaguely, not wanting to divulge any information that was not pertinent to his success. "And now I'd like to retrieve my merchandise."_

_"You're looking for leverage."_

_"I have leverage, Dr. Isles. I want a location."_

_"You seem to be a capable man, Mr. O'Donnell. If you can't find Mr. Flanagan, how exactly do you expect me to?"_

_"That, my dear, is for you to figure out," he challenged. He had far too much pride to admit he couldn't. He had looked everywhere. Danny Flanagan, after running amuck of Mickey's plans, had vanished and the bitter taste of defeat was the sole reason he had convinced himself to seek out Maura. Men in his line of work were never to involve women in their work; it went against every code they had. But his code applied to family first and he would stop at nothing to protect and avenge his. After a moment, he rose from his seat and fixed his suit. "Johnny, escort our guest out."_

_The young man who stood to Mickey's left moved immediately, holding out his hand to Maura. She took it fearful that not taking it would be considered rude or disrespectful, neither of which would keep her alive which was the only thing she could managed to focus on given the circumstance. Though, she did admit, the sudden end to their conversation unnerved her. She was given a task but not any sensible suggestions to accomplish it. But, she would have to worry about that later because she was currently being expertly lead through the darkness. The man she followed was avoiding iron bars and wooden crates straight to a heavy metal door._

_"Be safe going back," he whispered when they reached the door and Maura heard what sounded like sincerity in his voice which matched the genuine expression painted on his face but the strong scent of cologne filled her lungs as he stepped around her to grab the knob and she was reminded of who he was and where she was; something she realized she didn't know._

_"Getting back would be easier if I knew where I was."_

_"You know where you are," he replied, pushing the door open revealing the Boston Harbor just south of the docks. Maura had been there several times, once for a case, and she knew the area well._

_"I thought Paddy ran the docks."_

_"He runs part of the docks," he responded with a hint of pride, as though the high point of his life had been seizing some fraction of the harbor. He tipped his head to her as she stepped through the door and it shut behind her, leaving Maura by a pier with only the chill of the Boston morning and her knowledge of what she must do as companions._

* * *

_The precinct was just as she left it. Walking through the metal detectors, Jane had never been more anxious to see her desk, her partner, her boss. She smiled as officers passed her, welcoming her back, one holding the elevator open as she stepped inside._

_When the doors reopened, she was home. Or at least the next best thing. Her desk was directly before her and she could see Cavanaugh pacing in his office. There was a witness being escorted outside and officers were bustling past her with case files in their hands, their faces revealing fatigue despite the early hour. There were two people she didn't see, though, and the possibility that there was a case was too exciting to overlook, so she moved down the hall to the lieutenant's office and knocked on his door._

_"Sir," she questioned, her voice reached Cavanaugh just as he turned around. "Where are Frost and Korsak?"_

_"Frost is on car detail after he spilled coffee on the console and Korsak is refilling his coffee cup," he replied as though there was no other possible explanation and Jane smiled: nothing had changed. _

_As she turned to leave, her attention was caught by a form moving swiftly down the hallway which was further proof that she never wanted to leave again. The elegant form. The gracefully motion. The clicking of heels on tile. It was Maura. Her heart leapt in to her throat as she barely said the woman's name loud enough to be heard._

_"Maura," she yelled again, her voice booming through the hallway as she moved quickly toward the woman, tripping over herself and nearly plowing into another officer. "Hey! Maura, hold on."_

_Maura stopped, though her entire being told her doing so would be more harmful than simply walking away. Squeezing her eyes tightly, she swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and turned around._

_Jane had caught up and was now standing directly in front of the doctor, though she did not bear the same radiating smile the Jane wore. There was a twinkle in Jane's eyes as they danced over Maura's, soaking in everything she had already memorized about the woman, but Maura was still processing, still trying to understand. Jane's pure and innocent excitement at seeing her was anything but helpful and Maura suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She knew immediately it was noticeable because Jane's smile fell and she placed her hand on Maura's shoulder._

_"Are you okay?"_

_"I was running late this morning," she answered, distance lacing her voice, desperately clinging to facts. Jane was skeptic, but she accepted the statement. Maura was punctual to her core, even being on time nearly caused her to have hives, but she seemed to be in a hurry and Jane knew she was only standing there out of politeness. That's just who she was._

_"Well, go get caught up so I can see you later," she smiled, rubbing Maura's arm as a pale expression took hold of her generally cheerful face. Giving a tight smile, Jane turned to leave, only to be stopped in her tracks by a frail, confused voice: "For what?"_

_"For lunch," Jane nearly laughed, the answer being obvious to her, and arguably to anyone who knew them._

_"Not today," was the firm response._

_"Not today?" The words hit her harder than she thought words could. She hadn't seen Maura in days and, coupled with the fact that they had lunch every day, the refusal was all the more surprising. "Did you get in a fight with breakfast and decide to take it out on lunch or what? What's going on?"_

_"Look, Jane, I'm just not in the mood."_

_"For lunch or to be with me?" Jane didn't hide her growing frustration and she knew the latter accusation came only from her confusion, but, once said, she was slightly curious at the answer._

_"I have work to do," Maura sighed, ignoring the statement as she turned around and walked purposefully to the elevator, brushing past Jane careful to not make contact. It would be entirely too much for her to handle, but Jane looked on bewildered as Korsak stepped out of the elevator, holding a cup of coffee and a pastry. He nodded as Maura stepped inside, impatient for the doors to close._

_Even when they did, Jane stared at the elevator, trying to understand. "What the hell'd I do, Vince?"_

_"Hmm," he muttered, taking a satisfied bite as he walked towards her._

_"She just cancelled lunch. She never cancels lunch."_

_"Want me to look into it?" He took a long sip of coffee, not overly concerned with the disagreement. Typically he would actively avoid their arguments until stubbornness set in at which point he and Frost would intervene. But Jane was clearly more upset than usual by the conversation she had just exited so he offered._

_"No," she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck, feeling a headache setting in. "Thanks, though."_

_"Hey, Jane! You're back." Frost's voice came from behind her, but she could tell he was in far too high of spirits for her to handle, so she merely grunted her acknowledgment, waved weakly in his direction and walked to her desk, throwing herself in her chair._

_"Whoa," Frost said, breathless as he came to a stop beside Korsak, both men looking on as Jane fiddled with every stray object on her desk. "She okay?"_

_"Maura cancelled lunch."_

_"Should we…"_

_"Subtly," Korsak ordered, already taking steps toward Jane's desk._

* * *

_"Dr. Isles," Frost asked hesitantly, carefully opening the door to find Maura holding her finger up, telling him to wait._

_"Yes: three days from now. I'll send more information when I can," she spoke into the telephone. "Great. Until then."_

_She placed the receiver down and turned her attention to her guest. "Detective Frost, what can I do for you?"_

_"I need you to sign another copy of your final report for the Dixon case. There was a coffee incident this morning with Korsak and the car and things got out of hand," he rambled, which Maura was more than willing to let him do. The more he talked the less she would have to._

_"Certainly," she smiled, taking the file Frost held, quickly turning to the last page and signing it. "There you are, Detective."_

_"Thanks." He closed the file and turned towards the door, not sure how to be subtle or how to even begin. Maura was intimidating to him because he had such respect for her and the fact that they rarely discussed personal matters only increased his nerves, but he was halted by the sound of a heavy sigh behind him. He weighed his limited options. There were only so many ways to meddle without overstepping bounds of both his relationship with Maura and hers with Jane._

_"Hey Doc, can I ask you something?"_

_"You may." Maura immediately returned to the proper woman she was brought up to be._

_"Is everything alright?" The bluntness and sincerity in his voice nearly broke her. To have people who care is a vulnerability in itself, but to care was a weakness in the world she now existed in and Maura blamed O'Donnell for revealing how weak she was._

_"It's simply been a long morning," she replied, every ounce of her being attempting to remember that it wasn't a lie. She would play by their rules, but she refused to abandon her own. She would merely truncate the truth._

_"That's kind of why I asked," he admitted, leaving Jane out of the equation mainly because, in that moment, seeing her fighting herself, it was him asking-not Jane or Korsak- just him as her friend. "You know, despite what Korsak thinks, I'm actually a pretty good listener. I mean, I've had a ton of practice being with him all day."_

_His comment made her smile, which he was thankful for: Maura without a smile simply wasn't the woman he knew._

_"I have no doubt that you are." Barry Frost was a great man and a better friend and she knew his intentions were pure. Hers, however, were tinted gray and it made looking him in the eye nearly impossible._

_"Just…if you need anything, I'm here." Maura moved to speak but Frost's phone buzzed, saving her. She wouldn't have known what to say as it were. She was not rehearsed enough in the ways of emotional conversations to twist them in her favor._

_"Oh, I have to go, but you'll let me know if you needed anything?"_

_"I'm alright for now, but thank you," was all she could muster._

* * *

"And you believed her?"

"Of course not," Frost scoffed, almost laughing at the thought. Maura may not have lied to him, but he knew there was more to what she said.

"Yet, you trusted her enough to not question her again."

"Maura is an abnormally rational person; everything she does is methodical. Whenever she ventures at a conclusion it is best to agree that she's right and save yourself a lot of time."

"In this situation her being 'right' meant what exactly?"

"Leaving her alone. Letting her figure it out."

"Yes, well we all see how that worked out," the commissioner muttered, though the vacant room carried his voice to Frost. The young detective had spent the better part of the day trying to make sense of Korsak attempting to differentiate between evidence and fact, and had been largely unsuccessful. But as this man, who knew nothing of her, attacked Maura, Frost didn't much care if it made sense: he understood.

"With all due respect, sir, you don't know her like we do," he defended loudly and without permission. His youth was masked by the sternness of his voice and the steadiness of his eyes as they bore into the commissioner. "We have worked every case together since I was promoted to homicide, she and I. That is nearly four years of standing over death with her. We have put away some of Boston's worst. I've seen her held captive. She has seen me torn over a case. We've both seen people we care about in danger, time against us as we raced to find them. I know that's normal in our line of work, but she's not. She is the type of person you strive to be. Even when her world is tumbling, she is there for me, for Korsak, for Jane and her family. She does this because we are her family as she is ours. And in the years that I have known her, she has never once lost faith in me. I will not lose faith in her."

The commissioner took a moment to consider Frost's opinion, but he looked back down at his notes and was void of all emotion as he said: "Hold on to that _faith_, Detective. She's going to need it."


	3. Classified

_The hallway linking the morgue to the various labs and offices was bleak as usual, though it held a more defined sense of gloom as Maura walked it alone. She nodded to people as they past, smiled hello to the lab techs and assistants, but it all felt contrived. She knew she couldn't lie to them, or anyone. She also understood that knowledge came with a steep price in the mob world, a fact that became more prominent as she turned the corner to find Jane leaning on the door to her office waiting._

_From the years of knowing the woman, Maura knew Jane would be persistent; she always had been when it came to her safety. Jane valued it more than her own, Maura knew, which would make the conversation she was about to have nearly impossible and almost useless. But she moved toward her nonetheless._

_Jane looked up, pained confusion stamped on her face: "I called you a couple times."_

_"Yes, I saw," Maura replied quickly, glancing nervously around, desperately trying to avoid eye contact. She was fully content to let Jane dictate the conversation as she stood there clutching to the files in her hands. But Jane didn't speak. She just stared at her, taking in how distant they were despite being three feet apart._

_"Why are you avoiding me?" Jane's voice was low like a whisper but husky and fully audible._

_"I would rather not discuss this right now."_

_"Is there a better time?"_

_"Not really, no."_

_"So I'm just getting the cold shoulder 'cause you feel like it," she questioned, her voice turning harsh with annoyance, which Maura more than understood. "Is it more Title 18 crap?"_

_"In a way, one could perceive it as such."_

_"In what way," Jane pressed, though her words were brushed aside as Maura's senior criminalist came toward them, saving Maura momentarily._

_"I'm sorry to interrupt, Dr. Isles, but there is a Mr. Donald on the phone for you."_

_"Thank you, Suzie, I'll take it in my office," she replied before looking back at Jane, dropping her eyes to the doorknob. "In a personal way. I have to go."_

_Jane moved away from the door, allowing Maura to pass and was not surprised to have the door shut softly as soon as the doctor was through it. Maura Isles was not a difficult person to read. She was entirely too honest and much too concerned with social etiquette to be outright rude, leaving Jane with the only conclusion she could find: Maura, for whatever reason, wanted nothing to do with her. It had been sudden and seemingly unprovoked and she hadn't a single decent idea how to get her back. Sighing heavily, she saw Maura pick up the receiver and with nothing left to do, she turned and headed toward the elevator._

* * *

_"This is Dr. Isles."_

_"Have you had a chance to review the file I sent you, Doctor?" The voice she heard had been expected, but it still tore into her self control. They were bold to call her office in broad daylight, more so than she previously thought them to be. It reinforced her knowledge that they would not hesitate to follow through with their threats._

_"Unfortunately no, but I will have some time this afternoon."_

_"Don't rush. I'd hate for you to be wrong. Lives are on the line, if you recall."_

_"I remember," she snapped back, her patience tested by their hurried agenda. "I will have the results sent to you as soon as possible."_

_"Your cooperation is appreciated, I assure you."_

_"As is yours. I will call soon." And then she hung up, her hands shaking with rage and fear. She needed to find Danny Flanagan, not that she had a clue how to go about that. He was like Paddy Doyle: unless he wanted to be found, it was nearly impossible to do so. But lives were on the line, as they seemed to enjoy reminding her. It wasn't just Jane's anymore, she knew. It was Angela's, Frankie's, Tommy's. Anyone who bore the last name Rizzoli was in danger all because her last name should be Doyle._

_She looked at the clock that hung on her wall. It read 3:34, not that it mattered much. She knew she couldn't go home, not at least while Angela was there. If association was dangerous, near proximity was lethal and Maura refused to drag anyone else into her fight._

_Sitting down in the white chair she was so proud of, Maura settled in with a cup of coffee, police files, newspaper articles and photos all pertaining to Danny Flanagan. Laying them on the desk, she took a deep breath and plunged into the life and mindset of one of Boston's untouchable men._

* * *

_She wasn't sure what cup of coffee she was on; she had lost count after five, but from the smell of her office, she could safely say it had been too many. Several hours had passed since anyone had walked the halls of the lab and she knew it meant it was late, late enough it could be considered early. She didn't want to look at the clock, though. At the point, it was her greatest adversary and she had a feeling it was winning. As smart as she was, he was smarter, more cunning, more deceptive. He was lawless and her life was based in justice. It was hopeless to understand him._

_Then, she saw it. In a picture long forgotten by detectives, a small snapshot of a young man in the woods and her mind raced with possibility which grew quickly into certainty._

_She typed a few keystrokes into one of the programs Frost frequently used to find information and hit enter, hoping her excitement wasn't misplaced. It took mere seconds to retrieve what she requested. Packing up her desk, she was careful to leave nothing behind as she moved to the printer, retrieving a stack of pages and filing them neatly in the folder she held. Turning the light off in her office, she reached in her pocket for her phone and dialed a memorized number, listening anxiously as it rang._

* * *

_As the elevator reached the ground floor, she stepped out and into the last person she expected at such an hour, the files in her arms loudly meeting the floor._

_"Dr. Isles," Korsak greeted not hiding his shock at her presence, as he bent down to help her. "What are you doing here so late?"_

_"I could ask you the same thing," she responded with a smile, scrambling to conceal the papers that covered the floor, though Korsak seemed more trained on her than anything she tried to hide._

_"Couldn't sleep. Figured I'd get some work done." Rising from the floor and clutching violently to the stack of folders in her hand, Maura knew he was waiting for her answer, something she did not have immediately._

_"I was here looking over some files," she began, her inability to lie becoming more of a liability the longer this charade continued. "There's a case a colleague of mine asked me to look into."_

_"And 2:30 in the morning seemed like a good time to work on that?"_

_"Like you said, Sergeant. I couldn't sleep."_

_And then, for the first time in their relationship, an unsteady silence fell over them, Maura not knowing how to leave without raising more suspicion, Korsak trying to read Maura's blank stare. Maura needed an exit and quickly. The problem was that she needed their help, Frost, Jane, and Korsak, but she also needed them to be as far away from her as physically and emotionally possible. It was a paradox she had never known: to want something you refuse yourself so that there is a possibility of having it. Her mind raced and her breath caught as she attempted to stay in control, needing solitude more than the air she struggled to breathe._

_"Everything alright, Doc," Korsak finally asked, breaking the stillness around them. "You seem a little jumpy."_

_"Frost asked me the same thing and I appreciate everyone's concern, but there is nothing you can do right now. I should probably be heading home," she declared hurriedly. Nodding goodbye, Maura smiled hesitantly, not giving him time to respond, and walked through the security gates, through the door and into the early chill of a Boston morning._

* * *

"How much of Dr. Isles' plan did you know?" The commissioner's voice boomed loudly through the largely empty room. His committee staring at Korsak, judging how he sat, his coy smiles and irritated gestures. They had known before allowing him in for questioning that he would have the most information, other than Maura, but that he would be the most loyal to his unit. With Korsak in the room, they were all on high alert for any information he gave, verbal or otherwise.

"At first I wasn't sure she had one. I was more worried about her. But once I realized she was planning something, I gave her the benefit of the doubt."

"In other words: you trusted blindly."

"No," Korsak snapped back, startling the committee, though his anger was directed at the the man in the middle. He had known immediately upon seeing him that the commissioner was a pompous political robot, but that didn't stop him from being offended by the accusation. It was men like him, men who had never worked a blue collar shift, never seen death first hand, never had to rescue his partner from almost certain demise that annoyed Korsak the most. "I trusted her because Maura Isles would not have acted the way she did if there was not something else at play. Something she could handle. That's simply not who she is."

"You are oddly protective of a woman who held a gun to your former partner's head, Sergeant," he scowled, not giving Korsak a chance to response. "What happened next?"

"I called Detective Frost."

* * *

_"It's three in the morning, Korsak. Why am I here?" Frost rubbed his eyes lazily and clung to his coffee. He wasn't in his typical suit and tie, having been ordered out of bed, and being at the precinct in blue jeans and a ratty t-shirt made him feel like they shouldn't be doing whatever it was they were. Korsak's hushed tones and vague explanations despite them being alone only added to that theory._

_"I need your technical, typey-clicky, fact-finding program."_

_"Typey-clicky? Really?"_

_"Just sit down," Korsak demanded, pulling out a chair and pushing Frost into it. The young detective almost voiced his annoyance at being man-handled, but he remained silent and adjusted himself behind the screen and placed his fingers on the keyboard._

_"Alright, what am I looking for?"_

_"Not sure, yet. Just find every file that's been altered or viewed from eight o'clock last night to thirty minutes ago."_

_"So, we're going fishing," he almost accused. Korsak didn't offer a response, or even dare a glance at Frost. The detective didn't necessary expect him to, but the fact that he couldn't deduce even a hint at what Korsak was after only increased his curiosity until the need for answers was so strong that he accepted momentary ignorance and followed the older man's order._

_It took mere minutes before hundreds of files were listed on the screen before them._

_"Now what?"_

_"Now we find out which one of these files has Dr. Isles spooked."_

_"Dr. Isles," Frost nearly screeched his eyes were wide with fear and concern. "Does Jane know about this?"_

_"Not yet."_

_"She's gonna kill you, Korsak."_

_"You're in this, too," the sergeant countered without hesitation; though he knew he would take the full force of Jane's rage should they find anything of consequence. "Keep digging."_

_Frost wouldn't have argued if he could. He knew that had Korsak attempted this without him, he would have been furious. Whether it had been his idea or not, he was, as Korsak graciously pointed out, involved. So, he held back his reserve and began to search. A few keystrokes and a moment later, Frost opened three files: Danny Flanagan's rap sheet, blueprints for a warehouse by the docks, and a leave of absence request._

_"These were printed within minutes of each other starting at 2:02 this morning," Frost announced after a moment, feeling the need to say something concrete, since none of what they found made sense to him._

_"Oh, boy," Korsak sighed, finally taking a seat, rubbing his forehead. "This is bad."_

* * *

_O'Donnell stared at the information Maura had given him, his face portraying none of his thoughts. Without care, he flipped through the pages quickly, creasing the middle, crumbling the edges, creating waves in the papers which had been given to him in pristine condition._

_His sons stood behind him: the eldest eyeing his father, awaiting instruction, the youngest keeping his eye on Maura. It was not as if she was going to try and run. Where would she go that they could not find her? What could she do that deter them from finding Jane, killing her, killing her family?_

_They had had her cooperation from the moment they had requested it._

_"Impressive," he complimented, handing the pages to his eldest._

_"Only because you underestimated me."_

_"A mistake I will not make again." He gave a greasy smile and Maura felt her body shiver slightly as hairs raised along the back of her neck. A smile like that on a man like him was just as dangerous as the pistol on his hip. "You are more like your father than I expected."_

_"Well, they are called family businesses for a reason. Are they not?"_

_"Don't tell me you're considering your stock options," he half-teased. Maura gave a soft chuckle, lowering her head a little before looking back at him to see sincere curiosity in his eyes. The thought had never occurred to her, but as it was presented, she saw the value of such an idea and she could see the thoughts of her becoming Doyle's successor circulating in his head. With her contacts, she would make for a superior opponent and he knew it._

_"That remains to be seen," she answered vaguely._

_"Well, Dr. Isles, perhaps you should see everything about the process. A good investor doesn't buy merely on the projection of others. They dig through the company, see all aspects."_

_"You make quite an interesting proposal, Mr. O'Donnell." she offered slyly, trying to not let show that she wanted nothing more than to be dismissed, to hear him say that, even if momentarily, they were done conducting business._

_Then, as if he could read her, which she would not put past a man of his means, he stood up and everyone in the room reacted. His sons backed away. Larger men stepped forward to protect him. "If you decide you're interested you know where to find us."_

_Straightening his suit, Mickey O'Donnell snapped his finger at his youngest son. "Johnny, see our guest out."_

_Before she could understand why she still needed an escort to the door, the young man was by her side. He held his hand out to help her stand and she accepted it as he pointed in the direction of her freedom._

_No one else moved as they made their way to the door. The entire way, Maura was acutely aware of the uneven stitching on the man's sleeve and while at a time like that it shouldn't bother her, it did. It wasn't something she could overlook. Once they reached the door Johnny pushed it open for her, allowing her room to pass._

_"Maura," the name falling off his lips in a hushed tone, as though he thought himself a rebel by being so informal or divulging any thoughts to her, "I don't know what you get to see over there at the station, but if you get uncomfortable with what we're going to do, just close your eyes. It's what I do."_

_And then the door closed and she was once again left in the chill of the Boston winter with knowledge she didn't want. She knew what they were asking her to witness. She knew of their tortures. But now she knew that O'Donnell's son, although of age to be a man, was still a little boy, scared of what he saw every day, unable to escape it. And, in that instant she cared for him and the outcome he would receive should she succeed. No matter how much she wanted to differentiate herself from men of his status, she knew she no longer could. They were in this together, him and her, hanging onto different ends of the same rope, in a feud neither of them had asked to be in._


	4. Absent

_"You sure we don't know this Donald character," she asked for the umpteenth time as she twirled around in her chair. It had been on her mind since she heard the name and was yet another part of the Maura's mysterious actions that continuously whirled in her head._

_"Still doesn't ring a bell," Frost answered, eyeing his older counterpart with concern. Jane__ let her head fall into her hands, lightly rubbing her temple to release the pressure building with each thought she tried to process, though she wasn't sure she believed any of them. It was times like these, when her mind wandered through the insanity that was her personal life that she wished she had a distraction from her ongoing pursuit of what she had done wrong._

_"God, do we have a case yet?"_

_"You want someone to get murdered," teased Frankie, whose presence startled the room. He came to a stop between Jane's and Korsak's desk, his hands immediately resting on his belt._

_"Of course not," Jane sighed, returning her gaze to her blank computer screen. "But damn, can we at least have someone come in yelling about some cold one?"_

_Frankie looked bewildered at Korsak and then at Frost, both of whom strongly advised the young officer to not inquire further. But, this was his sister and Frankie was ever protective of her happiness._

_"This about Maura? Ma said she'd been short with you since you got back."_

_"Is my life the only thing you two can talk about," Jane bellowed, unconcerned with her audience, who, upon seeing it was a family matter, immediately became engrossed in their work. Frankie reeled back instantly, throwing his hands in front of his chest in surrender. "Calm down Jane. She's just worried, that's all."_

_"She'll come around, Jane. She always does." Frost eyed Frankie as he spoke though his voice was tender and low, hoping to give Jane the hope that he wasn't sure they could have, but nevertheless needed. Jane shook her head, unable to articulate the truth any other way. She wasn't convinced of that anymore, not like she had always been about her and Maura. And that bothered her more than Maura avoiding her._

_"I don't know, Frost."_

_"You don't think she's…you know…" Frankie didn't have time to finish his sentence before Korsak was shielding his eyes with his hands from the scene that was sure to unfold before him. Sometimes he genuinely worried about Frankie's safety being Jane's brother; this was one of those times. Frost rolled his eyes and slumped back in his chair, he was mere seconds from throwing Frankie out of the precinct for putting the entire department in danger of Jane's temper should she choose to react to his statement, which, as evident by her expression, was a real possibility._

_"Frankie," Jane proceeded carefully, trying to control her emotions. "Maura isn't cheating on me."_

_"She's been acting weird since you got back, hasn't she," he tried to reason, not that he wanted to believe it, but simply needing to understand. "She's been short with you, cancelling plans for no reason, sounding calculated- you know, more than usual. Aren't we supposed to investigate all options?"_

_"First," Jane assured, "this isn't an investigation. Second, _I_ am exploring all the options. That is not one of them."_

_"Rizzoli, Frost. My office," Cavanaugh's voice boomed through the squad room. Jane gave her brother one last glare that almost dared him to continue trying to help before she and Frost began walking toward the lieutenant who waved them into his office, adding: "Korsak, you better come too."_

* * *

_"Shut the door."_

_Korsak gently let the door fall into its frame as he, Frost and Jane stood bewildered in front of Cavanaugh who placed his hands authoritatively on his maple desk before quickly diving into why they were there. "This morning we received word that Mickey O'Donnell was sited roaming the docks."_

_He took a moment to gather himself and let the news sink into this detectives whose expressions ranged from pure shock to horror to despair. And when he spoke again it was quiet, as though the information he was presenting was dangerous. "Now I don't have to tell you why that is problematic for us on multiple levels."_

_"Do we know why?"_

_"We know what I've told you, Detective. He's on the move, rather blatantly. He's not worried about getting caught."_

_"He's either pissed off or the payoffs worth it," Korsak mused glancing knowingly at Frost who wished more than anything that he didn't understand the sergeant's meaning. Jane simply stood, frozen in knowledge and theory and an understanding all her own._

_"Do you think it's her," she pondered, not needing confirmation, but wanting it all the same. "Do you think it has something to do with her?"_

_"That's your job to figure out Detective," came the lieutenant's response. He tried to remain oblivious to the emotional ties his detectives were bound by, but he could see it in their eyes and in their worn faces and breathless statures. "I want you three on this. I want to know what is going on and why. I want answers."_

_"Yes, sir," they answered in unison._

_They were dismissed under orders to keep the developing O'Donnell situation between them, but with the possibility of Maura being involved, Cavanaugh did not worry about them venturing out for assistance. When it came to her, they were far too protective to involve any one else._

_As they turned to leave, Frost reached for the door when he heard Jane's voice. __It sounded feebler than he had ever heard it before. Four pairs of eyes were now focused intently on a measly piece of paper on Cavanaugh's desk. It was from Maura's stationary, which was why Jane noticed it at all. It was dated from the day before and it was signed at the bottom. Jane knew immediately what it was, but she asked anyway, because she didn't want to believe it__: "What is that?"_

_"That is not your concern, Detective. You have your orders."_

_"Jane, let's go," Frost encouraged, seeing the rage build rapidly in Jane's eyes at the answer she was given. It was generally unwise to tell Jane Rizzoli that Maura was not her concern. She was her only concern. Opening the door, Frost placed a hand on Jane's back and struggled to lead her out, but succeeded when Korsak softly ushered her along._

_"What the hell is going on!" The door had barley closed before the entire prescient knew that Jane was livid. Korsak and Frost looked at each other, both were wanting the other to take charge. There was no good way to tell Jane not only what they knew, but that they had known it without telling her. History had shown that such an act was nearly unforgivable._

_"Jane," Korsak finally admitted, "There's something we need to tell you."_

* * *

_Maura ran down the hall, nearly plowing over the table and couch, knowing she could not reach her door fast enough. Where a simple knock would suffice, there was a pounding that was heavy and unyielding. Even as she opened the door, it did not stop, only ceasing when she was face to face with Jane._

_"You requested a leave of absence." It wasn't a question. It was a furious statement._

_The detective stood in the doorway, holding the request Maura knew must have come straight from Cavanaugh's desk and she couldn't imagine it had been taken with permission, not that anyone could have stopped her. Pulling the door into her torso, Maura shielded herself from the anger that was forming like storm clouds on her door step._

_"Now is not a good time, Jane."_

_"Yeah, I'm thinking the same thing," Jane hissed coldly. "What the hell is going on? And I don't want to hear any of your round about, indirect crap. Why wouldn't you tell me this? What did I do?"_

_"I don't have to explain myself to you."_

_"No, you don't" Jane scoffed emotionally unaware of how to continue, but her pride forcing her to continue. "But you damn sure should want to."_

_Throwing the request at the door, Jane stormed away, her anger taking control and refusing to allow her to look back. But she didn't have to. Maura knew she had to say something. She could not let Jane leave with the thoughts surely swimming rapidly through her head. __She had done nothing to deserve this and that was the worst part. Jane was simply a bystander in an age-old feud._ Against Jane's quickened steps, Maura raced to find a way to convey even a sliver of relief.

_"You're going to have to trust me," she pleaded as Jane reached the end of the driveway. While not informative in the least, it was all she could produce under the pressure of O'Donnell's watch. She couldn't be sure he was there, but she was taking no chances, especially with Angela still living there. She was risking too much by her presence already. Jane turned around but made no motion to move closer as Maura continued. "This is something I have to do."_

_"Well, it's bullshit," Jane muttered over her shoulder, not wanting to give Maura the satisfaction of thinking her vague statements had helped anything._

_"I'm sorry you feel that way."_

_"You know what, I am, too."_

_And then she walked away. She refused to let Maura see how shaken she was. Given the past couple of days, Jane wasn't sure she deserved the right anymore. She knew Maura was still standing in the door way, watching her, but she kept walking until she was out of sight._

* * *

_The car door slammed violently. Jane banged her hands furiously on the steering wheel. Her world was crumbling before her without so much as a crack to warn her. It had simply fallen apart. Maura was cold and distant, shutting her out completely._

_Nothing added up. Maura loved her job yet she requested leave. She loved Jane but she refuse to confide in her. She loved to spout useless facts at will but all of her responses seemed calculated, as if she was scared of being caught._

_So, she sat there, in her car outside of Maura's house for what seemed like hours. She didn't know what she was supposed to think, or how she was supposed to feel, because all she could feel was hurt and her thoughts were as muddled as the facts she knew._

_She had found Korsak's number in her phone twenty minutes before, but she hadn't found the strength to call him. She hadn't forgiven him or Frost for keeping information from her, but now, with Maura practically gone, she couldn't think of anyone else she wanted to talk to. Frankie would want to try to fix it, because he hated seeing her hurt and she wasn't sure there was something left to fix. Her mother would likely give Jane a speech about how all relationships have rough spots and she would remind her of how good it was, or used to be, between then. And, to be honest, Jane wasn't in the mood._

_She wanted someone who would just sit with her, not say a word, not try to fix anything, and definitely not remind her of what was slipping through her fingers. Korsak had always been that person for her._

_Inhaling deeply, she left out a long sigh and pushed the call button, listening in silence as it rang._

_"Jane." His voice was laced in apology and surprise that she had called._

_"Korsak," she uttered through sniffles and heavy breaths. "Can you meet me at my apartment?"_

_"Are you okay?" All remorse stripped from his voice, replaced with immediately with concern._

_"She, uh…she's not coming back."_

_"I'll be there in ten," he guaranteed without thought, hanging up and leaving Jane in silence once again. Throwing her phone onto the passenger seat, she started her car and took one last look at Maura's driveway before switching gears and quickly merging with the traffic on the street, conscious to not look back._

* * *

_Korsak was standing by the door when she arrived, hands deep in his pockets to fight the cold. He must have driven close to ninety miles an hour to beat her home, she knew, and the sight of him calmed her slightly though she would not look him in the eye. She wasn't convinced she could without breaking down but he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. There were several scenarios he had concocted on his drive regarding how the conversation had gone, but with the way the situation kept changing, he ventured to guess that all of them were wrong. Jane Rizzoli did not come close to tears for nothing._

_As they stepped inside her apartment, Korsak moved to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. He didn't wait for her to ask. He didn't need to and he knew that their familiarity with each other was the main, if not the only, reason she called him and not Frost._

_Jane dropped her jacket on the floor in the middle of the living room, her keys making a loud collision with the coffee table. Walking by the kitchen, she patted his shoulder. "Thanks for coming."_

_No response was necessary so he didn't offer one. They both knew he would always come at a moment's notice. He watched as she disappeared into her room and, when the door fell into the frame, he lowered his head, taking a deep breath, trying to gain the strength and will power for the long night he knew was coming._

_But he didn't have time to fully uncoil because he heard a clash of skin on the wall._

_"Korsak!"_

_He reacted on impulse, sprinting toward her voice. Reaching her door, he flung it open, not waiting for permission and found her standing against the wall by the dresser, staring, breathing rapidly in and out, in and out. Her eyes focused intently in horror._

_"What…" His words froze in his throat as he followed her gaze to the left side of her made bed. Moving slowly toward it, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief._

_"Well I guess that answers at least one of my questions," Jane swallowed._

_Korsak stood dumbfounded, trying to piece together information but coming up empty. He had thought he was on to something with the files but this suffocated his theory instantly and he was just as lost and confused as Jane was. Both of them looked on, their minds racing. It raised more questions than answers, but it was a fact that in his hand was an ice pick._


	5. Remembered

"And you didn't think to inform your superiors of this newly found information?"

"Not at first, no. I knew that one day, when Maura was out of danger Jane would do the right thing. But at the time, doing that would have only endangered more innocent people."

"Was this decision made because Detective Rizzoli was still under probation with Internal Affairs?" Korsak chuckled softly, amused a little to know that a medical examiner who arrived at crime scenes like they were a Paris runway had managed to outsmart even the most tactical of men to the point of them grasping blindly for straws. They were completely at a loss as to what happened but they refused to acknowledge it. He at least freely admitted that he was baffled by the facts.

"If you're going to pin this on Dr. Isles, commissioner, you had better be completely certain," he assured as he leaned back in his seat, folding his hands over his well filled stomach.

"Are you threatening this committee, Sergeant?"

"No, I am warning you, though. If you're wrong and Jane Rizzoli finds out you put Maura in a federal prison I can guarantee you, you will wish it was the mob on your case and not her."

"That is a great assumption seeing as there is no proof she's alive."

"You think you understand, sir, but you don't. You can't. Maura loved Jane in the truest, purest sense of the word. That kind of love on that level simply doesn't exist anymore. It was something you had to see to believe. And because I did see it, everyday for years, I simply can't believe the evidence."

"Unfortunately, Sergeant, seeing is believing and all this committee is being shown is evidence that points in a straight line to Dr. Isles."

"Perhaps you should be asking yourself why that is, sir. Why all of your information points at her so cleanly, like a nice wrapped up Christmas present."

"You think it's fabricated."

"I think you are underestimating a woman in love who felt threatened and is capable of rationalizing anything. I think you should consider that Maura Isles had a plan and that it worked."

* * *

_Junior O'Donnell had been watching Maura since she arrived. He couldn't pin down exactly what it was about her, but he had reservations. For a woman like Maura, or at least what he knew of her, to be willing to consider the life they led made little sense to him. Of course, she would be a valuable addition to their clan, but he had yet to be convinced her intentions were in their best interest. _

_"Why are you looking at her like that?"Johnny's small voice came from directly beside him and Junior didn't bother to look his direction. His attention stayed on the doctor as she roamed about the warehouse largely unattended to._

_"I don't trust her," he answered plainly. There was a moment of shuffling before Johnny pulled up an empty bucket, placing it next to his brother and sitting down._

_"Then why did you support her coming with us?"_

_"I would rather have her in front of me than stabbing my back."_

_"Do you think she would," the young man probed as Maura made her way to the door, opened it and disappeared onto the docks. Junior had half a thought to have her followed, but knew that his father would not approve._

_"You are far too trusting, little brother," he resolved, nudging Johnny's shoulder lightly. The two brothers sat together, not needing to speak. They both knew about the war their family would soon be waging with Flanagan. Every day of their lives was a battle, but they handled it quite different: Junior always being the outwardly strong, and Johnny merely following orders blindly. _

_"Junior," the younger man asked, breaking the silence. "What happens if she's your right? If she's lying to us?"_

_Junior looked over his shoulder at his brother and with a low and sympathetic voice he said: "You'll have another reason to shut your eyes."_

* * *

_Wind blew through her hair as Maura sat hugging her knees on the steps of the docks. She wasn't certain how this had happened, how she'd become a temporarily member of a mob, but she had. It was something she had planned on, but the truth of it still surprised her. Frankly, the entire situation made little sense to her, not that she could do anything about it now. She simply had to follow the plan and hope they didn't kill her._

_As small waves lapped against the wall of the dock, she heard the warehouse door open and close, the sound of heavy steps growing louder as someone approached her. Turning, she saw that it was Mickey's younger son, and she felt infinitely calmer. Johnny had never felt like a threat to her._

_"Mind if I join you?"_

_"Not at all," she returned with a grin. He sat beside her, a respectable distance away and let several minutes pass before he mustered the courage to begin a conversation._

_"Can I ask you a question?"_

_"You may."_

_"Your girlfriend," he shifted on the wooden stair, uncomfortable, "her name's Jane, right?"_

_"Yes," she boasted, relishing that the term still applied, even if by a mob man._

_"That's a nice name," he beamed, his youth overtaking his mature appearance; his genuine kindness causing Maura's heart to ache for his predicament. "She um…she really is very beautiful."_

_"You should see her in person." Her answer was hesitant as the quiet surrounded them and Maura allowed herself to miss Jane. She had ardently avoided even thinking of her because that would lead hope that she would see her again and she couldn't be weakened by the thought. Even the mere possibility that she could hold her was too much to stomach._

_"I'm sorry this is happening to you," he breathed, seeing the struggle sweep across her face._

_"Your father should probably not know you said such a thing," she teased, treading lightly. He might be the closest thing she had to a friend at that point but sons of mob bosses didn't apologize for anything, let alone getting what they wanted and her shield surrounded her in full force. She knew that O'Donnell could likely be testing her loyalty to him, to their way of life. "I'm still the enemy to him."_

_"Only cause your Doyle's kid. He likes you other than that."_

_Oh, is that all__, she thought, wondering if being considered Paddy Doyle's daughter would become a permanent fixture on the list of her personal attributes._

_Johnny moved to speak, to apologize for making her uncomfortable, which he had no intention of doing, but he saw Maura shiver with the wind, wrapping her arms around torso. The woman who had stood toe for toe with his father now appeared frail, moments away from shattering. Taking off his jacket, completely aware of his actions, he held it out to her._

_"I insist you take it," he pushed when she looked at him with obvious uncertainty. "A lady should never be cold."_

_Smiling warmly, Maura took it and placed it over her shoulders, despite the wrinkled fabric and botchy interior patch jobs, she was grateful for the gesture and the warmth. Loneliness had a way of making the cool Boston night seem frost bitten._

_"You aren't much like your brother. Are you," she inquired, needing to know more about the shy boy who seemed to care about her._

_"Not really, no. He's more into the family business. He knows more about it. I'm just the little brother," he teased, though Maura could tell that it bothered him. "They wouldn't have given you the jacket, though, so I suppose I wouldn't want to be too much like them."_

_Maura smiled widely at him and he blushed slightly because his entire life was about his family and protecting it. He had never had a friend outside of his brother and his father. And he had never known his mother. Maura was the first woman he had ever had the chance to be a gentleman to and he found it was something he greatly enjoyed._

_"You miss her don't you," he asked after a moment, looking toward the trees in the horizon, struggling to make eye contact with Maura, though her full attention was now on him._

_"I do," she choked out, displaying vulnerability she could ill afford to show. "But, when I do, I remember that she's better off without me."_

_"Because you're a Doyle, you mean?"_

_"Yes," she swallowed, resenting the comment but accepting the truth that she was born a Doyle and no one in Boston was likely to forget it._

_"You uh, you said she's beautiful in person," he stuttered, as though he was telling a secret but managing to finally look her in the eyes. She didn't respond, which he took to mean he was allowed to continue, though he wasn't sure how. He had never taken the side of an outsider before, even if only for a moment. But he wanted to help her and this was the only way he could think of._

_"I kept it for you," he uttered, his voice mixing with the wind. "I know it's not the same thing but I hope it's good enough for now."_

_He took a Polaroid out of his pant pocket, tossed it in her lap and jolted up, hurrying inside like a child who just admitting to breaking his mother's China. His words lingered in the still air for several moments; Maura struggling to believe that on her lap was the picture Mickey had used to bait her. Jane's face was smiling and warm and carefree. It was exactly how she remembered it: every line, every curve, every stray strain of hair. All breathtakingly stunning. At first she smiled: that was her Jane. But then the tears came, leaving puddles on her sleeve. Her memory was an ache that filled every curve on her body, touching every nerve, like scalpels to her chest_

_Any thought she had about straying from the deal she made with Mickey O'Donnell disappeared instantly. Whether that was Johnny's intent or not was something she would never know and something she doubted he knew: not that it mattered, none of it did._

_Jane told her once: "Don't get made." At the time it was exciting and she enjoyed the thrill of an undercover operation but as she repeated those words, Maura was trying to convince herself that such a possibility still existed. The truth hit her as the wind blew through her tattered hair, catching on the jacket of a mob man: she was in too deep to be saved._

* * *

"You became one of them." His voice broke into the stillness that lingered after Maura's voice had died to a whisper. It wasn't a question. It was a statement, not up for debate, not that she could.

"Yes. I did. I had to," Maura admitted, averting her eyes from the commissioner for the first time since her questioning began. There was no duel meaning or underhanded explanation to confuse them. He was right. She had become her father's daughter, despite her best efforts, despite the desire to rid herself of his name.

The commissioner took note of her belittled stature and seeing the cracks in her exterior, pushed forward. "Dr. Isles, since you're being so open and honest, would you mind telling me how Paddy Doyle became involved and why there was an ice pick placed in Detective Rizzoli's apartment?"

It was the stray fact that none of the committee members had been able to rationalize; though, they thought they had a decent handle on the rest of the case.

"Certainly," Maura answered without hesitation, thankful to be off the topic of the youngest O'Donnell and onto something more concrete. "I asked him to help me."

* * *

_"You want me to do what?"_

_"Don't make me ask again," she pleaded, trying desperately to forget this was the second time she had requested assistance from the man who was looking at her as though she had just murdered a man in cold blood._

_"No. No more favors until you tell me what's going on."_

_"We've discussed this: I am not telling you more than you need to know."_

_"I can't protect you if you won't tell me who is hurting you." His words were forceful, stern, and yet they held a hint of desperation that Maura couldn't help but notice. He was a mob boss, one of the most notorious at that, and he had killed. He had likely stolen. He was the type of man Maura spent her life putting behind bars. But he was still her father, and he loved her whether she wanted him to or not._

_"I have already told you," she countered weakly, ignoring his pleas, though it was more difficult than she anticipated. "I'm not asking you to protect me. It's not me they're going to hurt."_

_"Maura, I can't."_

_"You mean you won't because you are plenty capable." Her voice rose in frustration and filled the empty space around them. All of the times he had expected that she see his side of the world and he was unwilling to see hers._

_"She's a cop," he argued halfheartedly, seeing a look in Maura's eyes that broke him. It was sadistic, hungry for vengeance, and absolutely lethal. "This goes against everything I believe in."_

_"But somehow putting an ice pick in her room doesn't?"_

_"No," he disputed instantly. "This is different, Maura, and you know that. This is beyond whatever mind game you're playing."_

_"This is not a game!" She was now screaming with all the strength she had left. "This is _your_ life, not mine. This is _your_ fault. Do you understand that? Because you couldn't stay away when you were asked to, her life is in danger. Frankly, I couldn't care less if you hate her. Your code applies to family and your __daughter__is asking so you don't have a choice. I am doing this with or without you so if you don't want to bury me __again__, stop arguing and do what I'm asking you to do."_

_Through forming tears, Maura pushed a folder onto her father's chest and stormed out of the warehouse, the sound of her heels as they tapped the concrete mocking the silence that now covered the basement, cloaking them in understanding that Paddy would do whatever she asked, no matter the personal risk to him, or to her. No matter his desire to protect her, his family, he would operate under her need to protect the family she had created, the family she chose, the family that had chosen her._


	6. Decided

Author's Note: My sincerest apologies for my absence with this story. I have fought myself for a month about the ordering of this chapter. I am sorry.

* * *

"Let me see if I understand you correctly," the commissioner began, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "A decorated detective was in danger on a case that only became a case because a wanted mob boss requested you supply him with information, a federal crime might I add, and you did this without hesitancy as you broke additional federal laws enlisting the help of another wanted mob boss, your father, to help control the situation."

"Yes," Maura answered quickly.

"And you see nothing faulty about that logic?"

"They gave me no choice. She needed help. He could provide it. What exactly is tripping you up, sir?"

"Truthfully, the entire situation," he voiced, defeated.

"That is quite unfortunate," Maura mused quietly.

He was nervous to ask, realizing that he was embarrassingly unaware of what had transpired, knowing full well what little information her had was only the tip of the ice berg, but he asked anyway: "What happened next?"

* * *

_12:23am, Boston Docks_

_The warehouse smelled of fish and perspiration, the clock singing "tick-tock" as seconds passed to minutes before an hour had gone, Maura still the sole inhabitant of the room. The discussed meeting time had been 11:15pm but that had clearly been a suggestion for the O'Donnell's who lived under the mentality that they could never been late. Maura, however, operated under her own system which frowned upon tardiness. Tardiness meant something had gone wrong._

_She took a glance at her watch and begun to wonder, rather fear, that she had been discovered. But she knew she couldn't afford another moment of weakness at the thought, not like she'd had with Johnny. No matter the situation, she had to keep to the promise she had made to Mickey. No matter what they knew, she had to remember that she knew more. No matter what was at stake for the Irish clan, she had more to lose and that reminder forced her to pull her shoulders back and push her head a little higher._

_Finding a chair, she sat down, placing her hands elegantly on her lap, showcasing a calm confidence she had perfected over the past several days and continued to wait._

* * *

_"I still don't trust her." Junior stood behind his father, watching as Maura sat in the empty room. "She hates Doyle and everything he stands for, everything _we_ stand for. We have what we asked for; let's finish this now. What are we waiting for? Her personal invitation to the federal prison of our choosing?"_

_"Quite the opposite. You are thinking much too narrowly," explained the older man, his eyes not tearing from the window into the room where Maura sat. "The fact remains that, no matter her actions, her motives are pure; to save Jane Rizzoli and anyone who bears her name. Pure motives are the most dangerous. They lead to the rationalization of any action, no matter how unlawful it is. Maura Isles will carry out her end of the bargain because she has must protect who she loves. She knows that if we fall, she falls with us. Remember that. Have some faith, my son. Your old man still knows a thing or two about the business. Now, go gather the men. We'll move soon."_

_"What about Junior," Johnny questioned before turning to leave, a hint of sadness in his otherwise strong voice. "He will be devastated."_

_"Your brother does not think they way that you and I do. But he will learn to. Perhaps this will be the push he needs to realize where his loyalties lie, that his childish emotions are fruitless in this life."_

_Mickey laid a strong hand on his oldest son's shoulder as his youngest watched from the end of the hallway. He had always felt like an outsider to his own family but hearing that he was looked at as such was a pain he struggled to hold in. He knew since childhood that he was different than his brother; he wasn't born to lead the family, to make deals, to steal, to kill. Not like Junior or his father had been._

_And as he watched them, both clean shaven in their tailored suits, he realized why he had been given the ratty jacket to wear. He wasn't his family. He didn't steal, or make deals. He most certainly did not kill. He didn't betray anyone. He may have been born into the unlawful life, but he was not made for it, he hadn't even been bred for it. No one had ever asked him to do anything other than stand behind his father. That had been the only job he had been trusted with. But, whether his family was aware or not, he knew it was high time he joined the family business._

* * *

_The door creaked open and Maura looked up to see Johnny O'Donnell standing in the walkway smiling at her genuinely, the way a mob man should not be allowed to do._

_"Maura, hello," he greeted, moving towards her. "I'm sorry we're late. Family habit I suppose."_

_"It's quite alright," she returned, thankful to see him. He calmed her; he gave her a moment of peace before the war began. She had no qualm with Johnny. But, as he stopped directly before her, the air around him was reminiscent of his father and Maura was somewhat saddened to see it._

Perhaps, in time, people truly do become who they were born to be,_ she thought glumly._

_Shaking the truth from her mind she grinned tentatively before reaching behind her to the back of the chair and retrieved a jacket which to held out to the man, gesturing for him to take it._

_"Thank you for your kindness," she explained when he didn't move to accept her offering. "I wanted to make sure this got back to you."_

_Still, there was no motion. Maura was alarmed and her mind ran rapid with possible solutions to the problem that arose before her; she needed him to take it back, but he appeared to want nothing more to do with it. His eyes were soft, an understanding glistening in them that caught Maura entirely off guard._

_But, Maura didn't have time to process because the door opened, reveling Mickey O'Donnell. Footsteps echoed in the empty air, growing closer and closer as the mob boss moved further into the room. The small grin on Johnny's face grew wider and wider until he smiled fully, gently, throwing Maura's rapidly beating heart into a sudden stop._

_He knew. He had to and terror gripped Maura's body._

_She was visibly shaking when she felt the warmth of his hand cover hers, his smile unchanged until he spoke in a hushed tone, low enough for Maura to barely hear him. "I insist you keep it. It might come in handy later. I expect it will get chilly tonight."_

_There was no time to react; Mickey had made his way to the pair, interrupting their shared knowledge that this changed everything. She wasn't convinced Johnny understood the full weight of what he had just done, but he knew enough. And, for reasons Maura could only thank but not fathom, he agreed with her._

_"I was just keeping our guest company," he explained, tearing his eyes from Maura, his lips forming a stern line as he looked to his father for orders. A glimpse of hurt and anger replacing the hope Maura had seen in his eyes only moments before, but she was the only one who bothered to look._

_"Always the host, my boy," O'Donnell grinned, clasping the back of Johnny's neck with his hand. Johnny's eyes closed at the rough contact as his father's voice filled the room again. "Find your brother, will you? Make sure he remembers his manners for the evening."_

_"Yes, sir," Johnny agreed, wiggling free from his father's grip and walking calmly from the room careful and conscious to not look back. There was no looking back now. He had stepped off the cliff with only the hope that whatever Maura was doing was cunning enough to work._

_"Now, Maura," O'Donnell began as the door rested once again in its frame. His voice was casual, much like the night they met. "You know, you don't have to come tonight if you're not ready. The first time can be daunting."_

_Maura gave an honest smile; for as smart as this man was, he was naïve when it came to her. Everything she had done to that point was to prove that she could be one of them, that she could belong with them. Now that she had accomplished that feat, she was going to capitalize on it._

* * *

_10:53pm, Jane's Apartment_

_"First, O'Donnell is prowling the streets and now an ice pick? What, did we miss the memo where we pissed off the entire Irish mob?"_

_"It's not exactly hard to do," Frost muttered to himself, though Jane heard him and he could feel her frustration burning holes on his skin. He threw his hands up in immediate surrender. He was just as tired as she was and they were both struggling to remain calm. They had bigger battles to fight than each other._

_They were countless files spread on Jane's coffee table and living room floor, none of them any help, but their presence somehow brought hope that the answers to their questions were within their grasp._

_From eye witness accounts, to police reports, Jane had memorized everything about Mickey O'Donnell. She knew his family. She knew his business, his tendencies. But it wasn't useful, because none of that translated to Maura, or why she would be on his radar. Aside from her association to Doyle, she was useless to him._

_And just when she thought that Doyle was the connection, she was reminded that he left an ice pick on her bed and she was back to square one._

_"Damn it! What can't we figure this out?"_

_"Because they are mob bosses, Jane. They aren't your run of the mill criminal," Korsak responded, sounding more stoic and robotic than Jane was in the mood to hear._

_"Yeah? Well, think Korsak," she yelled, tossing files his direction out of pure frustration. "You were here during the mob wars! You would know better than us what they're like. What did they fight about then? Was it money? Business? Clients?"_

_"Jane," Frost intervened mildly, understanding that Korsak knew about as much as they did, which they realized wasn't much. He knew that she was, like he and Korsak were, angry because they seemed to be three steps behind O'Donnell and one more behind Maura. All they had was a cluster of random facts which they couldn't seem to piece together. She was angry because a criminal was walking freely through the Boston streets, their streets, acting as though he was immune to the law. And, at the moment, he was._

_"Her life may be danger," she finally said in a tone that was hushed and gentle, betraying the fatigue she was fighting. "We don't have time to figure it out. We need to know now."_

_"We have time, Jane," Frost assured, placing his hands over Jane's, forcing her to look at him, to steady her breathing. Jane felt herself relax and she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. She knew that Korsak was the last person who deserved her rage. "Korsak, I'm sorry. I'm just…because she's…I'm sorry."_

_But Korsak didn't answer. He simply sat on the couch lost in his own thoughts, running through the years the mobs laid claim to Boston for the hundredth time. He searched his memory for anything that would be relevant, but coming up blank._

_Jane didn't attempt to break his trance; she knew he had heard her. From the look he bore, she also knew he hadn't given up, which she was grateful for._

* * *

_An hour past but they still circled around the same conclusion: they were lost. Jane had made another pot of coffee and it was gone within minutes. They were accustomed to not sleeping on a case, but they were not used to being so emotionally attached to one. Even when Jane was being stalked, they at least had her there, they could see her. At that point, they didn't know if Maura was still alive, though no one voiced this as an option because they refused to believe it._

_For a moment, Korsak thought it had found the link, nearly jumping across the room to grab a file from Frost, but, upon returning to his seat, he realized his memory had jumbled two different cases. He slumped back on the couch and rubbed his heavy eye lids, willing them to stay open._

_Frost split his time between reading case reports for the umpteenth time and eyeing Jane. He constantly checked to make sure she had completely fallen apart, yet. The lack of factual evidence, he knew, would eventually force them to rethink their options, but her steadfast assurance that an answer could be found gave him hope. That was the driving force behind her continual motion, the shifting between files and pictures and reports: she needed him focused on the information they had and she knew he followed her lead._

_Jane's mind, however, was not in that room. It was working in overdrive, remembering every tiny detail of her encounters with Maura. There was something there she missed, something she was overlooking. She filtered through their conversations, recalling how awkward and distant they had been._

_"_Is this more Title 18 crap_?" She had asked only to receive a vague: "_In a personal way._"_

_"_I don't have to explain myself to you_," she had declared, the memory of which still stung. That was what hurt the most: Maura not wanting to confide in Jane._

_"_You're going to have to trust me_," she had said. _Trust her?_ Jane thought; it didn't make sense. _Trust her to what? Ignore me? Confuse me? Scare me half to death when her sperm donor was running ramped and she is now where to be found?

_Jane threw her head back on the couch, resting for a moment as she formulated different scenarios where any of what she knew made since._

_"I just don't understand why she wouldn't ask for help," Frost finally confessed, tossing a file aside, breaking the trance the room had fallen under. "She had to have known we would have helped."_

"You're going to have to trust me."_ Jane thought again, her head rising from the cushion. Her eyes were wide as she connected dots in her mind that she hadn't known existed._

_"Maybe she couldn't," she whispered excitedly, gaining the full attention of the room._

_"Jane, you're stretching," Korsak sighed, seeing what Jane was thinking and both praying and hoping she was wrong. Frost simply looked confused. Jane turned to her partner, knowing he would be more willing to entertain the only idea that had made any sense to her since they began._

_"Think about it, Frost. When would we not communicate with each other on a case? When's the only time that's okay?"_

_He considered the options for a moment, before understanding hit him in the pit of his stomach. "Are you suggesting that she tried to infiltrate one of Boston's most dangerous families? An undercover operation?"_

_"Yes. That's exactly what I'm suggesting."_

* * *

"And that made sense to you and Sergeant Korsak?"

"To be honest, sir, at that point anything would have made more sense than the facts we were handed. All we wanted was to find Maura, save her at all costs. It isn't as farfetched as it sounds. She had done a few undercover operations with Jane before. Most notably when she wired herself in the Paddy Doyle shooting. I guess I just didn't want it to be true."

"When did you learn that you were right," the commissioner asked only to keep Frost talking. Of the people who could give him information, he was finding that Frost was the most willing to do so. "When do you learn that she had infiltrated the O'Donnell family?"

"Not long after we theorized it," he admitted, his youth showing through as regret and sadness filling his voice. His head hanging, his mind traveling back to the warehouse and what had transpired. "Though, it was not what we expected."

* * *

_12:17am, Boston Docks_

_Jane led the way from the car, her gun drawn, Frost and Korsak sticking close behind her. They moved slowly, sensitive to every sound, the slightest motion. Hugging the side of the warehouse, they could see light radiating from the windows. There were muffled sounds of conversation, convincing Jane that, regardless if her assumption was correct, they were in the right place to find O'Donnell._

_Rounding the corner, Korsak took over and was the first to reach the door. Silently, he gave directions and waited for confirmation before slowly and quietly opening the door. As much as they wanted to raid the warehouse, shock anyone inside it, they knew they were outnumbered and outgunned. Any sudden disturbance would likely lead to Maura's demise, so they moved with deliberate precision._

_Reaching the end of the first hallway, they were presented with two options: left or right. Korsak could see Jane's solution painted painfully on her face and he quickly moved to eliminate it._

_"We stay together," he whispered harshly._

_"Korsak, we don't have time. They could be moving right now."_

_"Jane," Frost pleaded, "We're already at a disadvantage."_

_"So is Maura," Jane countered, leaving no room for discussion._

_"I'm coming with you, then," her partner decided leaving no room for rebuttal. Korsak nodded his agreement. In the situation they now found themselves, he had the better hand, despite his age and physical condition. He knew these men and their type better than his colleagues and he would not have let me wander through a warehouse alone. Jane didn't fight them; she knew there wasn't time and she let Frost lead her down the hallway._

* * *

_With Frost and Jane out of sight, Korsak turned and began quietly moving left. Each sound he heard warranted a full stop, a re-examination of his surroundings. He opened doors only to find empty room after empty room. He found a broom closet, the door to the docks, and the supply room filled with military grade weaponry. But, there was no sign of Maura._

_He walked a few more feet when he heard humming from behind a small, thin door to his right. Pacing his finger on the trigger, he used his free hand to slowly turn the door knob. Throwing the door open, he revealed the blinking lights of the warehouses electrical closet._

_A deep breath exited his lungs. He lowered his hands and moved to shut the door when a searing pain radiated through his skull. He feel face first into the closet, the force of his body dislodging several wires. Starving half of the warehouse of power and leaving his current location pitch black as he grew colder by the second. He heard his gun being kicked aside and a vague silhouette of a well built man was the last thing he saw before losing consciousness._

* * *

_12:23am, Warehouse Hallway_

_Frost led the way down the wide hallway, Jane's tension and nervousness making his hand tremble as he held his gun and a flashlight in front of him. As much as Maura meant to him, she meant infinitely more to Jane and he felt the pressure of a positive outcome weigh him down. He knew, however, the possibility of such luck was low and sinking with every step they took._

_Jane had lost count of how many turns they had taken and how many doors they and opened into empty darkness so, when they reached a door that had a light shining through the bottom and the sound of muffled voice seeped through, a renewed sense of hope filled her._

_"Main room," Frost whispered, questioningly; Jane simply shook her head in uncertainty. Frost eyed the door handle and received a tight nod: they were going in. Jane would lead with Frost close on her heels._

_He held up three fingers and dropped them one by one, counting down as Jane gripped the door handle like a lifeline. As the last finger dropped, Jane turned the knob and threw the door open as violently as Frost was pulled backward, his mouth covered by a large, masked hand. Jane heard his flashlight and gun hit the floor and it took all of her concentration to not turn around. She couldn't when Mickey O'Donnell was standing mere feet from Maura._

_"Frost," she yelled desperation thick in her voice. But there was no answer. All of her worst nightmares were happening at once: the choice between partner and the woman she loved, that same woman standing casually with a notorious criminal wearing a genuine smile which fell instantly at the sight of Jane standing alone, an open door at her back, vulnerable in the worst of ways._

_"Jane," Maura muttered. The detective did not acknowledge her, her eyes trained on O'Donnell, a bullet aimed at his head merely awaiting orders._

_"Detective Rizzoli," he began, opening his arms as though they were old friends. If he was surprised, it didn't show and that was yet another confusing fact for Jane to handle. He appeared to have expected her. "What a lovely surprise. I see you've come alone. How seamlessly ignorance and bravery coincide"_

_"You will release Dr. Isles or so help me, I will shoot you." Jane tried to ignore his insult, but she realized he was right; she had acted irrationally, blinded by her desires yet again._

_"Release her," he laughed heartily. "Has she not told you? She is here on her own free will. She chose to be here. I'm certain if you ask her she will tell you the same thing."_

_"He's telling the truth, Jane."_

_"Maura, stop talking," Jane demanded. There was entirely too much to process: Korsak's whereabouts, Maura's comfortable appearance, O'Donnell's words, Frost, the fact that O'Donnell was entirely unprotected._

_She had been so right and yet so completely wrong._

_"If I leave, she's coming with me," Jane spat back in an attempt to compose herself though she was failing miserably._

_O'Donnell didn't appear to hear her, or care if he did. He was far too intrigued with how the scene before him would end. Detective Jane Rizzoli was in his warehouse, armed but defenseless. He was not blind to Maura's mind was at work, recalculating everything. If he had been right about Maura, he could destroy Jane Rizzoli. If he was wrong, he could destroy them both. The power he held sent tingles down his spine._

_"As a favor to my friend, Maura," he began, enjoying almost too much the decision each woman faced, "if you leave now, I'll let you go. No harm will come to you. You have my word."_

_"I've stated my conditions. If I go, she goes. She stays; so do I."_

_Mickey grinned; her decision made his all the more simple and far too satisfying. "Then you will die."_

_"Jane. Go." Maura's words were hard, bitter, urgent and cautious and they forced Jane to look at her. There was seriousness in her tone, but Jane could have overlooked that as fabricated confidence. It was the look in Maura's eyes that shocked Jane. It was cold, calculated, drained of the bubbly woman she knew. Jane simply refused to believe any of that was true. It couldn't be._

_"Have you lost your mind?"_

_"Now." Maura chocked the word out, revealing confidence she didn't have. She had half-hoped Jane would come, that she would piece together clues that Maura was careful to not leave behind, that she would be forced to deal with her presence, even if it was simply to see her again. More than that, however, she had had misguided optimism that she wouldn't. This was exactly the scenario she wanted to avoid: Jane finding her with these people._

_"I'm not leaving you here!"_

_"Jane, I'm not asking." Mickey O'Donnell's smile only grew; Maura was brought up in high society by outsiders but she was one of them by birth and he was finally seeing that on display. Her choice had been made. And he approved. "If you are not out of here in one minute, I will take his gun and I will use it."_

_The two women were locked in a battle of wills: Jane trying desperately to not believe the woman who could not lie; Maura trying not to wavier, show her fear. She wasn't bluffing in the least and she could see Jane didn't fully believe that._

_"Then you're going to have to shoot me, Maura, 'cause I can't leave."_

_Her heart stopped. It actually ceased to beat for a moment. Maura had mentally and emotionally prepared for everything except this. She would be stripped of her license. Her parents would likely shun her, never to understand the lawlessness of her actions. The family she had created-the Rizzoli's, Korsak, Frost- would likely not trust her again. She had prepared for that because this was something she had to do. However, in some non-logical, completely irrational part of her brain she thought Jane would hear the plea in her voice that night at her house after she requested leave. She had hoped she would understand that she was protecting her by removing herself from the situation, that it was something Jane needed to stay away from. But this was not the first time the two women were in two separate conversations, like reading the same sentence in contradicting novels. It was just the first time it would cost her so much. Some things simply can't be forgiven._

_"30 seconds," said a raspy voice. The clink of metal leaving its holster brought Maura's attention to the grim beacon held out to her. Wrapping her hand around it, heavy with regret and fear, Maura swallowed hard, but Jane stood her ground, much too confident for the situation._

_The man watched from a distance as Jane tried to find Maura's eyes, needing to understand. She had thought she understood: Maura was trying to save her. She hadn't imagined that she had become one of them. Maura was not a rash person—something Jane knew full well but had never seen the bad side of. The doctor was capable of rationalizing anything as long as she had had time to consider all other options, weigh the pros and cons of each scenario. She gave a small, weighted smile, pain radiating from her eyes; she had trusted Maura with her life not knowing how literally the woman would take it._

_"15," he egged on, bliss pouring from his voice. The great Jane Rizzoli was going down without a fight and his tainted heart beamed. More good had come out of his little arrangement than he had anticipated._

_It was silent for a moment, Maura gripping tightly to the burning cold frame, Jane finding no comfort in the eyes trained on her. Then the deafening sound of gunshots filled the room. The thud of flesh on concrete sounded like a canon while a second, lifeless body met the floor four feet away._


	7. Revealed

Author's Note: As mentioned in the beginning, this story has eight chapters meaning the next update is the final one. I simply wanted to give warning as I typically like having it. Thanks for sticking with me. Also, prayers and thoughts to the cast and crew and to Lee Thompson Young's friends and family. May they find peace and comfort in this time of loss.

* * *

"Did you just admit to murdering Jane Rizzoli?"

"Definitively, you can't say she was even shot, much less that I pulled the trigger," Maura offered, causing one member of the committee to toss his pen violently on the table and another to lean back in his chair and rub his temple. They had all mistakenly thought they were part Maura's round-about answers. Unfortunately for them, Maura had other plans.

"Then where is she," asked the lone woman of the group who was unashamed to voice her frustration.

"At this moment, there a number of places she could be," Maura offered in return as she sat comfortably in her chair, knowing that she controlled the situation. She controlled how the committee perceived her actions, her words. She controlled the pace of questions. More importantly, she controlled the commissioner because he needed her memory. And she needed him for nothing.

"We do not have time for your games, Dr. Isles."

"I'm not playing any. I could not begin to theorize where she might be. The last time I saw her, she was in the warehouse."

"And she was alive at that point?"

"At that point, yes."

"So, there is a possibility that she may no longer be?"

"There is," she answered firmly, weighted by her words, unable to honestly remove anything as a possibility. "However, I would venture to say that she survived."

"What evidence do you have to support this?"

"None."

"More blind faith," he sighed, gaining sympathetic glances from the committee. They were overwhelmed, under informed, and all had matching headaches to prove it. For a moment they had all felt like they had gained ground, but they beginning to realize they were in a loop of information that the woman in front of them could only expand should she wanted to. And frankly, the commissioner was tired of it.

"Let's try pinning down some facts, Doctor. Did you or did you not shoot Detective Rizzoli?"

Reaching down for the glass of water in front of her, Maura took a long, meditating sip, watching as the army of suits who sat twenty feet away stared at her, much too intrigued with how she would respond. It was the question Maura had actively avoided because in many ways it saved her, yet in others it incriminated not only herself but people who were not there to defend themselves. But, she could avoid it no longer, so she turned her full attention to the commissioner.

"No, sir. I did not."

* * *

_"He's dead."_

_The body of Mickey O'Donnell sat flush with the wall, blood spilling from his mouth; his eyes still open from shock. For a man thought to be untouchable, a man of great power and resource, a criminal, a murder, he looked identical to the bodies Maura dealt with everyday. He looked like the fathers and brothers and uncles that had made temporary home of her autopsy table. When it came to the inevitably facts of life, he was no different than anyone. At the end of the day, he was just a man._

_Maura sighed at the thought, despite his reputation and many of his life choices, he was loved by someone. Specifically, he was loved by men just like him and it was that reminder that had her quickly turning, looking for Jane only to find her limp body lying on the floor._

_"Oh my god, is she?"_

_"No, she's knocked out."_

_"Knocked out," she screeched in a volume barely louder than a stern whisper. "I told you to protect her not induce massive head trauma."_

_"She's alive, alright. I did what I could."_

_"What about Korsak and Frost?"_

_"They're safe, Maura. Now I have to go," Paddy urged, moving to Jane, lifting her up and cradling her against his chest. He forced himself to remember that she wasn't just another cop: she was the woman his daughter loved._

_"Be careful with her," Maura ordered, her words firm as she took off the jacket Johnny lent her and placed it over Jane, Doyle eyeing her with surprise that faded quickly into realization._

_"Make sure it is explained to her," she added before stepping back, attempting to distance herself from the man and the woman he carried. They would be safe, but she was still in danger; her mission was not over._

* * *

_The door swung open violently revealing Maura pushing rhythmically on Mickey's chest. She was covered in blood, the body beneath her unresponsive._

_"What the hell happened," Junior roared, the men who followed him in looking more alarmed than either of the O'Donnell brothers._

_"He's been shot," Maura stated, not hiding her annoyance at the obvious question. "Give me your jacket."_

_"What happened to mine?" Johnny's voice was frail and terrified, yet there was a momentary hint of understanding in eyes that Maura saw, though she wished he would have known enough to not ask. She could see the fear and anger well in the eldest O'Donnell son._

_"You lost it," Junior questioned angrily, his voice echoing through the room, hitting every inch of the stone cold concrete. His hands went immediately to Johnny's chest, not waiting for an answer as he pushed his brother against the wall._

_"Hey!" Maura yelled gaining the attention of everyone but Johnny who was looking at his brother in a panic Maura knew all too well. "Are we going to argue about a jacket or try and save your father? We don't have time for both."_

_Backing away from this brother, Junior removed his own jacket and tossed it almost gently to Maura who took it as pressed it against the wound. She was careful under watchful eyes to hide that the entry hole was no longer gushing blood. _

_"What else do you need?"_

_"A hospital. Or at least the equipment."_

_Junior took a moment to consider this, looking at the armed men behind him, his brother beside him, his father helpless before him. _

_"Leave him," he ordered with steadiness and surety that shocked the room._

_"Excuse me?" Maura stared in disbelief but Junior stood proud, though there was a glaze covering his eyes as he looked at his father._

_"Stop what you're doing," he ordered, Maura obeying instantly. "We can't risk it. He's fading and we don't have time to get him what he needs."_

_"You want me to let him die?" Maura questioned, trying to read the man's expression. He had somehow aged in a matter of minutes. He was no longer Mickey O'Donnell's son. Somehow, as he stared at his father on the floor, he became the head of his family, the decision-maker, the only voice that mattered and everyone there knew it._ So, h_e straightened his suit, ran his fingers through his grease ridden hair and pushed back the sadness of losing his father._

_"I want revenge, Dr. Isles," he stated, his eyes directly on her, rendering her motionless. "And you're going to help me get it."_

_"My deal was with your father," she tested. "Not you."_

_"You're deal was with this family! You will help me, or I will kill you, Doctor, and I can promise it will be a most unpleasant experience."_

_Though Maura's outward expression was hard and steadfast, revealing a since of fortitude, internally, she was rejoicing. She had succeeded. They were now in the palm of her hands. She was the only one who had access to information they needed; she had access to the patterns and tendencies of the people who wronged them. To the remaining O'Donnell's she was one of them. She was a criminal, a mobster, a member of a family loyal to each other, even if they were not her blood. To them, she was on their side. And, for one more time, she was._

_"What do you need from me?"_

_"The location, Doctor. Take me to it."_

* * *

"And you lead them where exactly?"

The commissioner knew the answer, but he pressed for one just the same, namely to see how much more of the truth he could force her to admit. Fortunately for him, it was a truth, she was finally too exhausted to keep.

"I led them into the woods."

* * *

_Darkness covered the house; the woods secluding it, draping it in silence. A lone light lit the porch, a beacon revealing rotting wood covering bullet proof glass that protected F.B.I Special Agent Gabriel Dean and the part of his team that weren't hiding in trees. They had received an anonymous tip that the O'Donnell brothers would be attempting to infiltrate the premises. It was anonymous to everyone but Dean. He had thought it strange that Maura would call as they hadn't spoken since the Paddy Doyle warehouse incident but when he heard Jane was in danger, he's interest was spiked. He had been told simply, "Three days from now. Information to follow."_

_It wasn't until the tip that he was made aware who would join him in the woods. He wondered how many people already had parts in her plan and how many more were completely unaware they were pawns in her chess match with the Boston mobs. At that moment, however, he could not focus on the bigger picture because, if he knew Maura at all, he would not piece it together without her. She was simply too smart and far too cunning._

_So he sat in the darkness, waiting._

* * *

"You were the anonymous source," came a voice from the left followed quickly by a question from the right, "You knowingly led criminals to a federal safe house and put our agents in harm's way." The commissioner's voice barreled down the middle of the room and was stern, masking lines of disbelief painted on his face. "There was no way for you to be certain they would follow you."

"That sir is why you never stood a chance at catching them," she responded calmly. "You don't understand them."

"And you do?"

"Yes. I know them. They operate under a code: they live for family; they die for family; their only concern is family. They will stop at nothing to protect their own. It is something I could not fathom the extent of until the night they showed up at my door, Jane's picture in their hands. Can you understand that feeling of helplessness? The feeling of having the woman you love, the woman you spend your life with be stared at as if her worth depends solely on the success of their vengeance. As if she is nothing more than a means to their end. I understood their anger, sir. I understood their motives. I acted the way they would have because on some level I am just like them."

"Does that include murder," he pressed, knowing that one more charge against her would only make the case easier to close, not that they didn't have enough evidence to convict her already. "Was killing Mickey O'Donnell your plan all along? For revenge?"

"No. That was an unfortunate outcome."

"But you did, did you not? You pulled the trigger?"

"I deal with death every day. To impose it upon another person, their family," Maura shook her head at the thought. "I am a lot of things, but a murderer is not one of them."

* * *

Korsak and Frost sat uncomfortably on the bench just outside the interrogation room. They had been there for nearly four hours not saying a word, waiting on Maura's second session of questioning to be over. For a while, Korsak had attempted sleep, but Frost kept waking him because his snoring was disturbing others in the hallway. Eventually he gave up and settled for staring at the wall.

Frost had been fiddling with his tie, then the hem of his suit jacket, then his fingers. He was incapable of sitting still. Finally he submitted to resting his head in his hands, his elbows digging into his thighs, though he was too tired to care.

And that's how they were when the hallway doors broke open in a fury by Jane.

They both jolted up, staring in disbelief, their hearts both sinking and rising, trying to balance being elated to see her alive and worrying profusely at what this meant for Maura.

"Where is she," Jane demanded, the lines on her face revealing a shocking lack of sleep and fierceness that neither man had seen before. The only thing they could was point toward the heavy wooden doors.

* * *

"What did O'Donnell want with Flanagan?"

"I was never told, exactly; I didn't need to know. And frankly, I didn't care. For me, it was never about Flanagan. It was about the men who threatened my family. As soon as I knew I could authentically fabricate information to appease them, the rest fell into place. Whatever they wanted with him was no longer my concern."

"But it may well be but the concern of the State," he pushed.

"Then the state can find Junior O'Donnell and ask. It shouldn't be too difficult to look up which federal prison they are currently sitting in," she remarked with a sting in her words that meant both _you're welcome_ and _shove it_. "I will not, however, reenact any of my actions to be some puppet in your police show. I am finished with their world and their laws."

"Then you shall live in and be subject to ours." There was not a hint of possibility or hope in the finality of his words. And how he had longed to say them. Maura had been the witness of his nightmares and he knew now that no jury or judge would acquit her now.

Maura had expected as much. No matter how pure her intentions began, no matter the good that came out of her actions, she was aware that the public would need someone to blame and she had broken laws and she had contributed to the death of a man.

She let the inevitable verdict sink in as the committee mumbled amongst themselves, sorting out their views on the facts. But, the muffled sound of voices behind the heavy wooden doors caught her attention and that of the commissioner and his committee drawing the room into a momentary silence. T

There was the vague sound of a shuffle before"move out of my way," came in a clearly audible tone. The door swung open revealing Jane in her tattered clothes, a large cloth taped to her head showing spots of blood where her temple had met the floor.

"Jane," Maura muttered breathlessly, almost rising from her seat but forcing herself to stay still. Jane wasn't looking at her, but that didn't matter. She was still alive and she was standing in front of her. Maura's heart was in her throat, her eyes glued to Jane as she slammed the doors shut and staggered her way down the center aisle toward the committee.

"Commissioner, I'd like to have a word with you."

"This is highly inappropriate, detective."

"Yeah, well the past few days have been a little draining, sir, so I hope you can forgive my impatience."

Jane kept her attention on the committee, though she was aware that Maura was there, merely feet away. She contemplated stealing a glance, but the thought brought her mind back to the warehouse and the last image she had of Maura. It was too much for her to try to handle given her current situation of fighting conflicting urges, one of which resulted in a statewide manhunt for any O'Donnell still at large so she could single handedly become their end. But she remembered what Paddy told her; she needed to finish what Maura had started.

Moments passed before the commissioner spoke. "Clear the room, please."

The committee stood and immediately moved to leave, not wanting to see the wrath of the woman before them. An officer moved from the corner toward Maura, his hands reaching for his handcuffs.

"She stays," Jane ordered, her eyes bearing into the commissioner, not bothering to be specific or even point to Maura. "It's not a request."

Nodding to the officer, the commissioner shifted in his seat. He waited until the room was empty save for himself, a woman charged with federal crimes and a detective whose temper preceded her in the worst of ways, before gesturing for Jane to sit.

"The floor is yours."

Jane stood for a several seconds out of pure defiance before taking a seat at the end of the table, away from Maura. She could not handle being close to her with the rage that was welling inside her chest.

"What further information do you need regarding the days leading up to the death of Mickey O'Donnell and the capture of his family? I am prepared to provide you with it," she announced, though the commissioner appeared to be less than interested.

"We've just now received the final piece of information from Dr. Isles, but we'll pass along your cooperation to I.A. for their investigation."

His answer was no surprise to Jane. When a case seems to tie itself up nicely, when there is a person on which to place the blame, it was easy for the law to accept it without further discussion. There weren't two sides to a criminal's story. There was only the one detectives could find. Jane wasn't sure if that was the case with Maura. She didn't know how much she had divulged, and she didn't have enough information to guess but, she could safely conclude that it hadn't been enough.

"How many charges are being filed against Dr. Isles?"

"Excuse me?"

"How many charges?" Jane forced out each word through gritted teeth

"At the moment, three."

The corner of Jane's mouth threatened a small grin, but she suppressed it. "Then you don't have a damn clue what happened."

* * *

_Jane regained consciousness, one sense at a time. Her mouth was cotton dry as the cold caressed her skin and the smell of fresh fish and molded wood told her the horns she was hearing were boats from the docks. Opening her eyes, there was a lone lamp in the corner that lit an otherwise empty room._

_Checking for a gunshot wound, she found none which gave her the strength to sit up slowly, her head feeling light and her stomach queasy. She saw a blur of a man standing near the door, looking down at her. He was tall and well built-a large figure Jane was certain she'd seen before. Then she registered who it was. It was Paddy Doyle._

_"Son of a bitch," she screeched, jumping to her feet, grabbing his shirt collar and forcing him against the stone cold wall. "You left her there to die!"_

_"I saved her life!"_

_"Like hell you did!"_

_"You think I liked leaving her there," he pushed back, matching her rage. "I know you don't like me and I hate this situation more than you do, but I'm doing this for Maura; because she asked me to."_

_"And I'm supposed to believe that?"_

_"Yes, you are. The O'Donnell's had been tracking her since that article was run months ago. They needed her for something. She wouldn't say for what. I'm not convinced she knew. All she told me was that she needed my help protecting you. She needed you out of the O'Donnell reach."_

_"So you left an ice pick in my apartment? To what? To scare me into submission? To piss me off? To..."_

_"To make you focus on me," he screamed, forcing Jane to recoil into herself. "She hoped if I was out there roaming the streets you'd let your partners handle Mickey and his family and you would turn all your attention on me, because of who I am."_

_"No," Jane breathed, the truth sitting uncomfortably in her stomach. She held back the tears that formed due to her own blindness, her inability to understand Maura the way the doctor had obviously wanted her to. It hadn't registered as a possibility before, but now that she was standing opposite Paddy Doyle in a warehouse owned by Mickey O'Donnell, it made sense to her. "It was a warning. It's your family signature. It's how you send messages."_

_Releasing his collar, Jane took a moment to consider her options, which she realized she was all but out of. On instinct alone, despite knowing she should consider heeding Maura's warning, she turned from Doyle and toward the door._

_"Where the hell are you going?"_

_"To find her," she answered, with no interest in conversing further with the man. "There's no limit to what they'll do to her if..."_

_"To her," he questioned loudly, stepping in between her and the door, not allowing her space to breathe. He knew her as an intelligent woman, but Paddy was struggling to understand her apparent ignorance. "You don't get it do you? You're their leverage. The way Maura is mine. If they want to get to me, they use her. They know I would do anything to keep her safe. When they found her, they found you and it doesn't take a brain surgeon to see how much you mean to her. You're her weak point and they thrive on vulnerabilities. They won't physically hurt her so long as they can emotionally torture her, mentally destroy her. As long as they need her, _you_ are her greatest threat. So whether you like it or not, you're going to have to trust me, because if you don't they will more than hurt her. They will take her life and let her live to see it."_

_Jane swallowed hard, the lump in her throat growing with each word Paddy said. It was precisely what she needed to hear: logic, Maura's logic. It was always the factor that kept her from acting on her gut alone and now she was hearing it from Paddy Doyle. It felt like insanity to her, to even consider it but she admitted she had been too close to this. Of course, she had known that, but it was Maura and that meant it didn't matter. It meant that she would do anything, even trust Paddy Doyle. _

_"What was her plan?"_

_"I won't pretend I know. I, like everyone else, knew only my part," he confessed, noticeable calmer than only moments before. "My job was to protect you, as whatever cost. I was in that warehouse in case you showed up. 'Protect Jane or leave unnoticed,' those were my instructions. And, of course you were there; that's who you are. She thought this out past just your reactions; she knew mine, O'Donnell's, and both of your partners- who, by the way, are safe. The only thing you need to know is that she had a plan, several in fact, and it worked. It worked better than she thought it would."_

_"What does that mean?"_

_"It means she's smarter than you think. She's better at their game than they are. She's going to bring them all down."_

_"How," Jane nearly screamed. Her frustration at not being about to understand Maura but her mob boss father she hardly tolerated could explain her thought process was sinking deep into her skin, causing knots of anger along her shoulders. "Am I just supposed to wait and hope she comes out of this alive?"_

_"Yes." Though it was not the answer she wanted, Jane had expected it. "You wait and you finish what she started." he said, holding a tattered jacket out for Jane to take._

* * *

Jane placed the jacket on the table gaining a more than confused glance from the commissioner. She heard Maura inhale heavily. Reaching into the sleeves, she flipped the jacket inside out, the sight of which had the commissioner out of his chair and confused.

"Is that what I think it is?" The commissioner had never seen a black book before, but he had always assumed it would be a book.

"They're smarter than you give them credit for," she spat.

"How did you find that?" Every assumption he had made based on the factual evidence Maura had given was false and there was now enough evidence from this case alone to convict the O'Donnell Brothers and nearly a quarter of the remaining mob elite, including Flanagan, and at least a portion of the dirty cops in Boston. Dr. Maura Isles had done in less than a week what he and his men could not do in nearly thirty years.

"I didn't. She did," Jane corrected, nodding her head toward Maura. "I woke up with it and Paddy Doyle filled in the rest. I'm guessing somewhere in her charade she figured out what it was and from what I understand adjusted her plan. I don't know. I was just a pawn."

The accusation did not sit well with Maura, her stomach churning upon hearing the disgust in Jane's tone. There was no use in denying it, though she wished she could. She had used Jane, Frost, and Korsak, toying with their minds, using their love of her as a launching pad for her scheme. People she cared about- her family- had been put into harm's way and that was her doing. It didn't matter if they forgave her, though she knew that was doubtful. She would never forgive herself.

The commissioner was tempted to demand an explanation, how it was possible that Maura had come to possess such an important artifact, but he finally realized that even with the simplest of explanations, he would never truly grasp the subtly with which Maura had operated. She was far more cunning than he had anticipated; he was in no mood to be shown yet again how much he did not know about the situation. And, if he were being honest, the fact that the O'Donnell's black book was now in his interrogation room meant he didn't much care how it had arrived.

"Detective Rizzoli, you will hand that jacket over as evidence in this case."

"I'll give it to you on one condition," Jane offered, putting her hand on the jacket possessively.

"Evidence like that is not conditional, Detective."

"It is when the only people, other than Paddy, who know I have it are in this room. No witnesses," she smiled, the commissioner once again stripped of his authority on the situation. He knew he would never find Doyle and he knew the importance of the information sown into the sleeves. He also fully understood that Jane would destroy it without second thought.

"What is your condition," he groaned.

"My unit-the entire unit-is to receive not so much as one post-it note in their jackets. No mention of this is ever to be used against them for any reason."

"Fine," he agreed almost instantly; he had expected as much and it was a simple enough request. He paused for a moment as he looked between Jane and Maura, waiting for Jane to state her condition for the doctor. But instead there was silence. "Is that all detective?"

"Yes," she answered quickly, standing up without waiting for dismissal. Jane pushed the jacket forward on the table, as promised. Her eyes were level with the commissioner's when she stopped and, after gathering herself, added: "But sir, I think it's only fair to warn you: she is the daughter of Paddy Doyle. The second those handcuffs touch her wrists he will see blood. Your blood. She is also the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and I can't promise that Boston Homicide will react quickly to his actions."

He swallowed hard, gripping his pen tightly in attempt to control his emotions, though fear seeped through his voice. He knew of Doyle's reputation and of Maura's contacts in the department that had proven to be as good as family to her. And as Maura had proven: family protects family.

"Is that a threat, Detective?"

"You're damn right it is," she growled.


	8. Reunited

Author's Note: I simply wanted to say thank you to everyone who supported this story in any way: a view, a favorite, a follow, a review. It meant a great deal to me. I hope you have enjoyed how this story played out and how it comes to a close. This has been my favorite story to write of anything I've written as it was a challenge. But thank you all again.

* * *

_Seven Days Later..._

"You sure you're ready for this?" Korsak and Frost sat beside Jane in the waiting room of the prison currently housing thieves, murders, and Maura. They had moved her there after the trial until a decision could be made, though Jane knew what the outcome would be. It was the younger detective who braved the question.

"No," she responded honestly. They had hardly left her side since she resurfaced nearly a week before. She had insisted they go home, but Korsak, despite Jane's best attempts, had pushed back and assured her that had the roles been reversed, she would react the same as they were. After the first night, she resigned that she enjoyed having them there, even if only for the company.

But she was still angry, hurt, her feelings of betrayal heighten by her wounded ego and shattered pride. She wasn't ready to see Maura again. She wasn't ready to accept that everything was different between them, that she no longer felt she could trust her, though she desperately wanted to. She wasn't ready to accept the past week as reality instead of the horrid nightmare it felt like.

"Do you want one of us to come in with you," proposed Korsak, simply as an alternative, not actually thinking she would want it or truly wanting it himself.

"No," she confirmed. As much as she didn't want to do this alone, she wanted less to have an audience. Whatever would happen between them, Jane wanted to happen in private because she was as liable to demand Maura's permanent exit from her life as she was to kiss every inch of her body and never let the woman out of her sight again. There was enough indecision between them without adding another set of opinions.

Korsak saw the turmoil that ran over Jane's face and patted her knee in attempt to console her, though he knew it was not him she needed reassurance from. That was her problem. She had no idea which Maura would be there. Was it the one she met in the warehouse or the one she fell in love with? The possibility that it was the former had her wringing her hands in nervous anticipation.

"It's going to be okay. It always is."

A halfhearted smile graced her lips; Jane appreciated his optimism, but she could not afford to accept it. He hadn't been there, in the warehouse, when the gunshots went off. He hadn't seen the blank look in Maura's eyes. But Jane had seen it. She memorized it and it haunted her.

* * *

"Detective Rizzoli, Frost. Sergeant." The commissioner's booming voice brought them out of their thoughts and lacked the aggravation and disdain they had all heard in the court room. He looked tired, not frustrated; relieved, not annoyed. "They are moving her to a holding room as we speak. You'll have ten minutes."

Jane scoffed; time limits. She had never before understood how aggravating they were. How was she supposed to begin to say what she needed and wanted to in ten minutes? But she nodded all the same.

"When you're ready," the commissioner added after a moment, "the guard will escort you back."

Jane took a deep, meditating breath that cleared her mind, even if only for a moment before she stood and brushed past the suited man in front of her and walked toward the guard.

* * *

The hall was bleak and reminded Jane of the morgue at the station more so than it ever had before. Echoes of her heels clicking sounded loudly from wall to wall and the jingle of the guard's keys kept time with her rapidly beating heart. She had taken this walk many times in her career for countless criminals she had brought to justice, but this time was different. Nothing could prepare her for the dread that washed over her, or the shiver that laced her spin as they came to a stop outside a heavy white door.

She breathed in deeply, her lungs grateful for the air she hadn't realized she had been denying herself. As the guard unlocked the door, Jane wrung her hands, the raised scar tissue evident and the sweat from her nerves profuse. She gave the guard a weak smile and a curt nod and the door opened.

Stepping inside, the silence was eerie. The chairs that surrounded the table were empty and Jane thought she had been the first to arrive until the sight of orange blinded her from the back of the room. It was such a contrast to the dull white walls and the metal table and chairs. Her own drab suit of black and her worn white shirt made Maura's attire all the more striking.

Hesitant to make immediate contact, Jane opted for the chair closest to the door which closed with a heavy and piercing click. She paused for a moment before pull the chair back, its legs scratching the floor and momentarily feeling the room with life.

Maura watched from the corner where she sat on the floor curled in herself, not making a motion to join Jane at the table. It had taken all Maura had to not confide in her, to act indifferent to Jane's existence and the trial had drained what was left. There was a long silence, Maura completely unaware of how to approach the situation. She had betrayed Jane in order to save her. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

"They brought in Dr. Pike until this gets figured out," Jane voiced, more to her own hands on the table than to Maura and more to simply hear noise than to achieve any resolution.

"I removed your chair before he made himself at home," Jane pushed when Maura didn't respond.

That's all she could think of to say. The only topic of conversation, other than the painfully obvious, was a chair. Jane immediately felt cold. This was proving to be far more difficult than she anticipated and nothing had happened yet. But she pushed on.

"Frost and Korsak said they saw you a little during the trial but you wouldn't look at them," Jane said, to no avail. "Much like you're doing right now."

Maura kept her eyes averted. She didn't want to talk about Pike or Frost or Korsak or the trial. She didn't want to discuss the details of O'Donnell or Paddy or the warehouse. Her only concern was exactly how hurt Jane was, how betrayed she felt. Knowing the woman as she did, she had a rather good idea, but she needed to know for sure.

Jane counted 47 ticks of the second hand on the clock hanging from the wall and on the 48th, she spoke. It was soft and low, graveled and boarding on tears she refused to shed. But she knew that she could not avoid the subject; it would be a discredit to the relationship she had had with the woman in the corner, which made her words all the more painful.

"Ten days ago, I was sitting in an airport counting down the minutes until I saw you again," Jane said with a hint of laughter at the memory. "Now, you're here, sitting in the holding room of a federal prison and I don't know what part is real and what part was made up."

And Maura understood; every question she had regarding Jane was answered in one word: real.

Jane's entire life was based around searching for, finding, and understanding the habits of criminals in hopes that she could bring them to justice. For the last ten days she had done that with Maura. She had analyzed her words, dissected her thoughts, and memorized her actions.

But, what bothered Jane the most, Maura knew, was that once a criminal was caught, made to admit their crimes, nothing about who they were before that mattered. Perhaps they were a loved politician, but now they were in prison for treason. Perhaps they were a quiet school teacher, but now they a mass-murdering sociopath. Perhaps they were an average high school student, but now they a hacking mastermind.

Perhaps they were Massachusetts's chief medical examiner but now they were a mob boss's protégé.

In Jane's world it didn't matter who they _were_. It mattered who they proved to _be_. People could live with you for years, befriend you, love you, and convince you that you know them. And you could trust them; you could open yourself to them only to find out once it's too late that they are someone else entirely. Something that, to Jane was normal on the job, something she had seen play out countless times in her career, was now her greatest fear.

Maura could see the pain in Jane's eyes, painting lines of anger and confusion across her face. As ridiculous as it was to Maura, Jane was questioning if anything about her had been real.

"Jane," Maura barely whispered, desperately needing to intervene on the battle Jane was raging with herself. But she was cut off by the deafening sound of Jane's hands colliding violently with the metal table.

"You held a gun to my head," she bellowed, meeting Maura's eyes for the first time since the night in the warehouse. Jane was fuming and she made no attempt to control it. "Was it even loaded or was that a lie, too?"

"It was loaded," Maura admitted meekly. "But I never lied to you."

"Intentionally mislead. Lied. It's all the same to you, isn't it?" Maura knew she couldn't deny the accusation, nor would she attempt to, but, just as Jane's words had at the trial, they stung all the same. Jane rubbed her temple, trying to calm herself enough to have a civil conversation about the uncivilized world they had been in.

"Would you have shot me?" Jane's words were soft and emotionless, needing, but not wanting, to know. "Would you have pulled the trigger if Paddy hadn't been there?"

"No," Maura assured quickly, pulling her arms tighter against her knees, holding her shaking body together. "I wouldn't have risked it, Jane. Not with you."

For nearly a week, Maura had been terrified that she would never see Jane again and even more fearful that she would for this exact reason. There was uneasiness between them. Anger she understood. Disbelief she could accept. Never being forgiven she would find peace with. But it was the discomfort settling in the room that bothered her most.

Their relationship had been many things over the years but never this. It was a playful cat and mouse game of wit and sense, knowledge and understanding, theology and experience. It was a novelty in Maura's life. She didn't quite understand it, but she never questioned. She had never needed to.

But this was uncomfortable. They were both searching for any sense of familiarity in the other woman. It was as if they were the cop and the criminal, not the detective and the doctor. Rivals instead of inseparable friends. They were strangers instead of lovers. No matter how much they knew about each other, everything was being learned anew there in that holding room.

Somehow she needed to move them from what happened to what they were going to do about it. And she realized that, with Jane's uncertainty, the first step needed to be taken by her.

Loosening her arms, Maura smoothed out the creased fabric though it was largely useless; the polyester blend, once ruffled, would remain that way. She placed her hands on the floor, pushed herself off the cold concrete and used the wall to help her stand.

Taking deliberate steps toward the table, Maura stopped at the chair opposite Jane. For a moment she considered sitting, putting herself, for the first time since this all began, on the same level as Jane, but, as the metal caressed her skin, she realized that was neither what she wanted nor what Jane needed.

It took her mere seconds to decide to pass the chair and she moved around the table, placing herself directly beside Jane.

"Jane," she began with a cracked voice, which gained strength and conviction as she continued. "Jane, look at me."

The tone Maura used was surprising forceful for how timid it was and Jane, for lack of a reason not to avoid her any longer, obeyed.

And what she saw, Jane could hardly stand. Maura Isles, the ridiculous smart, witty, caring woman had changed into someone hardened by life, stripped of her innocent joy and playful facts. Fragments of her remained in the way she fidgeted with her neckline, where her necklace typically hung. She was there in the pristine posture even the mob couldn't strip her of, but there were parts of her that were new, like the bleakness in her eyes and the determination in her stance, the fear in her uneven breathing.

Maura gave a weighted smile, attempting to find words to say what Jane needed to hear. But she didn't have them yet, so she knelt down beside the chair, not blind to the surprise in Jane's expression, but also forcing herself to ignore it. Behind her shock, Jane suppressed her natural instinct to bring Maura a chair or offer up her own because she was genuinely curious as to what Maura could have to say to her that would require such proximity.

It was only once she was resting completely on her knees did Maura realize that Jane hadn't looked away from her. Not yet, at least and that gave her the courage to tentatively reach for Jane's hand which rested on the table. The moment Maura felt the warmth of skin on hers it was immediately retracted, slightly but defiantly.

"No," Maura said, her voice stern, unwavering,. "Don't pull away from me."

Jane considered her options for a moment. She wondered if that hand had been as stable in the warehouse or if it had shaken with understanding of its actions. But, Jane wanted so badly to feel Maura again, despite her pride that she reached from the steady hand awaiting hers and grip it tightly. It was exactly how she remembered it and shivers crept down her spine at the realization that she was holding it again.

Maura gave a tight smile and squeezed Jane's fingers in assurance before she began to speak.

"I misled you and I shut you out," she began, treading lightly. "I betrayed you. I hurt you feelings and I inadvertently put you in danger. And I understand that you're angry. But I did what I did to protect you and I would do it all again, a hundred times, if it meant keeping you alive." Jane didn't pull away and Maura took to be a sign that she was allowed to continue.

"You can be mad at me for the rest of your life and I won't stand in your way or tried to persuade you otherwise, but right now, today, in this room, I need you to be you so I can feel like me again because I don't." Her voice broke and she fought back the lump in her throat and the growing heat in her cheeks, Jane's full attention becoming more like a foundation to stand on than a weight to hinder her.

"I feel exposed and covered in their filth and always mere moments away from hurling into the nearest trash can or toilet or hole in the ground because maybe, just maybe, by some miracle it will take away the feeling in my stomach that churns at the thought of that world. And that scares me, Jane. I'm terrified that I'm one of them even though I know I'm not." Maura smiled briefly at the statement, believing it fully in that moment, knowing it would fade the instant she left the prison grounds. Every major news network in the country would be waiting for her release, every journalist itching for a photo or a quote and she would instantly be reverted back to the mob boss's daughter who jeopardized her girlfriend's life and decorated career. Out there she was a criminal, regardless of the good she had done. That was simply how it worked and she knew it.

"So, please," she nearly begged, tears streaming down her face at will, as she was powerless to prevent them any longer. "Please forgive me for one minute and let me feel like me again. For one minute. Please."

Jane searched Maura's eyes not entirely certain what she was looking for, but finding those same fragments of Maura that had seen moments before. Letting go of Maura's hand, Jane placed her fingertips on her cheeks, wet with emotion. Her same warmth was there. Her hair still fell around her face the same way it always had. She was still Maura Isles and Jane was incapable of doing anything other than what she requested.

"Okay," she said, softly, receiving a loud sigh of relief as Maura became noticeably less tense, less uneasy. Maura closed her eyes and breathed deeply in and out; in and out; content to merely sit in silence with the woman she loved simply because she could.

But as Jane watched her, she knew that it was not enough. Just sitting there, watching Maura internalize her pain and memories was the last thing Jane wanted to witness; she had done so for over a week unable to help. But that was all she had wanted to do. That was all she still wanted to do. They were a pair: what one could not do, they other could and at that moment, Jane knew Maura could not handle her pain alone.

Leaning forward, she placed a gentle kiss on Maura's forehead, letting her lips linger, breathing her in. Beneath her hands Jane could feel Maura tentative to touch her though her hesitancy was short-lived. Her hands grasped onto the nearest part of Jane she could find and Maura feel into her torso, sobbing, shaking and struggling to control herself, but Jane's grip on her was unwavering

"Sh," Jane soothed, trying to convince both Maura and herself. "I got you. You're safe."

Maura's grip on Jane's shirt grew tighter as the ring of tears on her collar grew larger. Jane felt her eyes begin to burn, the heat on her cheeks matching the lump in her throat as tears began to flow down to her chin, into Maura's hair, some catching her arm, others colliding with the floor. She tried to swallow but she was focused so intently on holding Maura, she was forgetting how to breathe. If she hadn't had Maura's gasping reminder, she would have forgotten all together.

"You're safe," she repeated, this time more for herself than for Maura because that was all that mattered.

What lay before them outside of the closed door? She wasn't entirely certain. The Media. The officers at the station. Cavanaugh. Internal Affairs would hardly be forgiving. It was messy now, more so than before. Their being together had been a risk to the department, even if no formal rule existed, which Cavanaugh undoubtedly knew . But Jane couldn't imagine work without Maura or any work of another kind for either of them.

It was more complicated than she could fathom and she was thankful that decision was not hers to make. The only decision she had was how her relationship with Maura would change knowing it could not possibly remain the same.

"I'm so sorry." The words were muffled by tears and white polyester, interrupting her thoughts but Jane heard them clearly.

Loosening her grip, Jane pulled back slightly forcing herself to look at a worn, red, defeated face. She brushed stray hairs off of Maura's cheeks, feeling the expectation in eyes that trained on her, waiting for a verdict they both knew Jane had already made.

A small weighted smile fell on Jane's lips as she inhaled deeply. It would take time to fully understand, to accept, to not look at Maura as if something was hidden beneath every statement. It would take time for her to not need reassurance that the Maura she knew was the only Maura that existed. But she realized that because she was here with her in the holding room of a federal prison, because of Maura and her perfectly executed scheme, time was something she had.

"Don't apologize for protecting me," she choked out, trying to sound assuring but not sure she had. "Just don't ever scare me like that again. Okay?"

Maura huffed out a strained laugh that was laced in shock. "Okay."

"Yeah?" Jane grinned. It was a promise as much from Maura to Jane as it was from Jane to Maura. Maura had only done for her what Jane knew she would have done for Maura. There was no doubt in her mind that, had the roles been reversed, she would have done the same, complete with alienation and misleading and Maura would have forgiven her without second thought.

They were unconditional. Jane had always known that, even when she hadn't been prepared to admit it, but she finally understood to what extent it was true. Whoever Maura was, Medical Examiner or mob elite, she was the woman Jane loved, longed for, wanted. Jane had fallen in love with everything Maura was, which she now saw included her ability to rationalize anything.

"You know, Ma's been worried sick about you," she said, trying to feel the least bit normal, her grip on Maura remaining firm. "She, uh, she's waiting for you at home. Told me I wasn't allowed to come back without you, even though I told her it would be a couple more days. Korsak and Frost won't leave your side either. Haven't left mine in days."

"I didn't mean to worry them."

"They understand," Jane assured. "But you know Ma, she wants all of her children safe, all of the time. If she could put us in plastic, bullet proof bubbles she would."

Maura smiled. It was smile that began somewhere in the pit of her stomach and passed through her heart, the first of its kind since Junior O'Donnell had knocked on her door. "She's never going to let me leave the house again is she?"

"Not while she stands watch," Jane replied, her tone lightening as she pictured her mother barring the doors and putting Korsak and Frost on guard.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of keys jingling and the lock slipping out of the door frame. The door swung open and the sight of the guard made Jane's heart feel heavy.

"Time's up, Detective."

Jane immediately felt Maura grip her tighter than she had ever thought the woman capable of. She gave a short nod and stood, bringing Maura with her, never breaking contact. Her sigh was heavy and controlled.

"One more minute." The guard considered the request, which sounded more like a meek demand before turning toward the hallway, leaving the door open, but blocking the entrance with her body.

"I'll be back in a couple days, okay?" Jane's words were fast and low, trying to hurry a goodbye that she never wanted to have to say again.

"Yeah; I'll be okay," Maura responded, quickly. "You should go."

Jane shot a glance at the hallway and did not hear any footsteps or movement other than the fidgeting of the guard. In haste, but with tenderness she hadn't known she possessed, she kissed her. The sharp intake of air told her Maura had not expected it but her response held no hesitation. Jane was starved of how the woman felt against her, and that moment only reminded, and not quenched, her of it.

It wasn't passionate nor was it in any way timid. It was a lingering moment of lips pressed together, remembering a feeling they were both ashamed to admit they had nearly forgotten amidst the chaos. Yet, as simple as it was, its honesty made up for the many they had missed and the longing desire they felt as they parted meant that there would be many more.

The guard cleared her throat, but did not turn around; a subtle warning that she was already pushing the limits.

"I'll be back in two days," Jane announced, struggling to move more than a few inches away from Maura while knowing she had no choice but to leave.

"Two days," Maura confirmed, slightly breathless before watching Jane quickly disappear into the hallway without looking back.

* * *

_Two Days Later…_

Jane and Maura sat in the car which was parked on the side of the street. Maura had been released that morning and of all the places Jane thought she would want to go, where they were was the last on her list.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes," Maura said with confidence. "I need to."

Jane didn't argue. Maura had her reasons and if this would help her move on and let go, Jane would support her. "I'll be here when you're done. Take your time."

Maura gave Jane's hand a tight squeeze and released it for the first time since they left the prison. She wouldn't be long, only needing to return what had never been hers to use.

Opening the car door, she stepped out and her heel immediately stuck into the mud. With effort, she walked across the well maintained grass, past the trees and wooden benches, into the maze of tombstones until she reached one that read "_Baby Maura Doyle."_

People weren't meant to see their own headstones erected where they bodies lay. It all seemed ironic now that her entire life had been built around her ability to solve puzzles for murder victims, to speak for the dead because her own life had begun at a cemetery.

A long sigh left her lungs as she considered how differently she could have been had Paddy not lied to her and her birth mother, had he kept her and raised her, had she truly been a Doyle. The though gave weight to the package in her hands. It was a long, slender box that concealed an ice pick she had asked Paddy to use on her behalf.

Kneeling down, she placed the box behind the vases on the ground that held new flowers, no doubt Paddy's way of keeping up the lifelong lie he created, a lie that had caught up with him and with her. Regardless of that, though, she had not given up his location nor where she had met with him or how she had communicated with him. He had helped her, followed her every request with precision she appreciated. Jane was alive because of him. Maura may not have been able to pull the trigger, but had Paddy not been there, Mickey O'Donnell would have without thought or regret. Because of Paddy Doyle's actions, he was for all intents a free man.

"Now, we're even," she said as though he was right beside her though she did not rule it out as a possibility even if she doubted it. He may be bolder than most, but he was also highly intelligent. A trait Maura saw as admirable for the first time since meeting the man.

Taking a final glance at the name carved in granite, Maura turned toward the car parked along the street and the woman in it, waiting for her and began the walk away from the life she was born into and back to the life she had made.


End file.
